


Starred Up

by Allofmyshameinonepairing



Series: Starred Up AU [1]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Day One, Decided to write a 14 chapter fic for my first ever dragonball piece because why the fuck not?, F/M, Language, M/M, Murder, Prison AU, Sex, Violence, more violence, probably out of character, tumblr: kakavegeweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 02:36:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allofmyshameinonepairing/pseuds/Allofmyshameinonepairing
Summary: Prompt for Kakavege Week (Sep 2019) Day One - Prison AUVegeta is incarcerated at a young age for a crime he most definitely did commit. By sheer chance, Goku ends up meeting the prisoner, and changing his fate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First DBZ fic so if it's terrible, I'm sorry.
> 
> Written for the prompt 'Prison AU' - characters are all human and live in a non-descript earth because I'm lazy. Also it's an AU.
> 
> Warnings for: Violence, Sex, Language and mentioning of generally unpleasant things

‘It’s too bad you can’t make it to lunch on wednesday, guys. I was going to put on a special spread and everything.’ 

Sat in the comfortable lounge at Capsule Corp., Goku groans lightly at Bulma’s complaining, resting his head against the back of the couch.

‘Bulma, we’ve gone over this,’ Yamcha huffs, ‘The programme’s been planned for months, and you knew about it.’

‘Yeah but I didn’t know it was starting the exact day we’re launching the new lines of capsules.’

‘It’s just bad timing, babe.’ He slings an arm around her shoulders ‘‘Sides, we’ll probably be back pretty soon. I bet they haven’t even had much of a sign up for it.’ 

‘Uh...to be fair, I don’t think they get a choice. I think they get told whether they’re doing it or not,’ Krillin comments, and Goku lifts his head to look at the monk, coming back to the conversation.

‘Great, so you get to train unwilling criminals, that sounds safe.’ Bulma gripes.

‘...you...you don’t think they’ll pair us with anyone...dangerous...do you?’ Yamcha straightens a little, his arms sliding away from Bulma’s shoulders as Krillin frowns.

‘Nah… I mean...’

‘Boys...’ Master Roshi cuts in, ‘We’re offering the prisoners a support service to aid with rehabilitation and mental health issues. We will do as they have asked, and in return, the guards will keep you safe.’

The old man shuffles, plopping himself down onto a chair and adjusting his glasses.

‘And besides, if Yamcha gets taken out by a murderer, I’m always happy to fill his shoes, Bulma.’ 

‘Ewww... that’s disgusting. Can’t you find a woman your own age?’

‘No. And besides, you’re all highly trained martial artists. There’s no way you’ll be beaten by a bunch of criminals.’

‘Yeah but what if they’re highly trained martial artists who have used those skills to kill people?’ Krillin shifts, leaning back against 18 as if his wife was somehow going to protect him. 

‘Then you’re fucked.’ Roshi grins, before looking to Goku. ‘Goku doesn’t seem too concerned.’

‘Goku is the reigning world champion...’ Yamcha mutters.

Goku shrugs, looking at the small group of people. He didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Master Roshi was right, they wouldn’t come to any harm.

‘We’ll be ok guys. Besides, it’s only for a little while. And you never know, we could help someone. Then it’d be worth it, wouldn’t it? And if not, we get to punch people who probably deserve it.’

There’s a bark of laughter from 18.

‘Wow Goku, didn’t think you had that kind of attitude in you.’

He shrugs again.

‘We go in, we train some crims, we come out. We do it until they think it’s not worth it anymore. I’m looking forwards to it.’

‘Yeah but you’ve always been insane.’ Bulma announces, rolling her eyes.

‘Yeah.’ He agrees mildly, resting his head back again. ‘It’s next week anyway, no point worrying about it ‘til then, right?’.

‘If you say so, Goku, if you, say so.’

–

The walls of the briefing room located in South City prison are a dull, plain grey, patched over with posters that Goku only skim reads. He’s bored already, waiting for the warden to come and run their introductory safety meeting, having had two other briefings about the purpose of the programme they were working as part of, as well as the background to the prison. If he had a watch, he’d be glancing at it conspicuously. Not that there was anyone of importance there to see, but still…

He wanted to get on with it, meet his assigned partner and then go home. If they were quick, they’d be home before Bulma’s party was over and they could grab a late lunch.

The door opens a moment later, and Goku sighs in relief, glancing to the others who had agreed to the program. Like himself, Tenshinhan seemed bored with the entire thing, Yamcha was attempting to give the impression he didn’t care and Krillin was openly concerned. He didn’t have a chance to check in with the other instructors from their school before the warden started talking.

He pulls his attention back to the front of the room, looking at the man as he leans on a small lectern, and even as he starts to point out behaviours to be aware of in the inmates, Goku’s attention wanders.

A short time later, and everyone around him is standing and he scrambles to his feet, nudging Krillin.

‘Wha...what’d I miss?’

‘Fuck, Goku, you weren’t listening? He just said it was super important to pay attention.’

‘I know, I know, just...fill me in, k?’

Krillin looks entirely unimpressed, but falls in beside him as they’re lead from the room.

‘They’re going to take us a tour around the cell blocks to get a feel for what it’s like for the prisoners. All the blocks have different schedules and some of the cells will have inmates in, so you need to watch out. Some of them like to try and grab people as they walk by, so you need to stay between the yellow lines.’

‘Between the yellow lines, got it. Anything else?’

‘Once they’re done with the tour, they’ll bring us back to the briefing room and then take us individually to meet the guys we’re working with.’

‘Wait, they’ve already chosen specific guys for us to work with?’

‘Yeah. There’ll be at least one guard with us at all the time though.’

‘Ok...cool.’

They’re guided through a series of corridors, all the same dull grey, winding their way deeper into the campus. Occasionally they happen to spot an inmate, here and there, until they finally reach the centre of the prison. There were four cell blocks, each having a different level of security, all of which shared the same recreational spaces in the centre. Blocks were denoted by the colours of the inmates jumpsuits, allowing them to easily identify the prisoners’ status.

It seemed a grim way to live, Goku concluded, as they were guided around an empty block, the inmates currently out in the rec yard. Everything was grey or black, cold stone and metal, illuminated by harshly bright lights. He couldn’t imagine waking up in such a place everyday, being told when to eat, when to go outside, when to shower, when to sleep. The cells were arranged to hold a couple of inmates each, a toilet and sink present in the corner, thin matteresed bunk beds pressed to one wall. The majority of those dull walls had been covered with images, mostly of nude people that Goku tried not to linger on too long.

‘Alright, heads up, next block is currently occupied and highest security. Be aware that these are violent offenders. Stay between the yellow lines at all times, stay with the group and if you’re given an instruction by a guard, obey to the letter, understood?’

There’s a murmur of agreement and Goku straightens himself up a little bit. He was a big guy, and the likelihood of anyone trying to pick on him was low, not to mention he could handle himself. But the idea of being surrounded by people who would intentionally harm him for fun, outside of a ring, made him wary.

The next cell block seems somehow even more oppressive than the previous, though he can’t put his finger on why. Even the air seemed closer. He supposed it didn’t help that he could already see the inmates in their cells, crowding forwards against the bars for a look at the visitors. Most of them are two to a cell, as before, but he could see the difference in these prisoners, already their calls and jeers more aggressive.

The guards react in kind, of course, and Goku frowns, glancing over faces, nearly walking into Tien’s back, not realising they had stopped walking. Their guard had paused at one of the cells, knocking on the bars with his baton.

‘You alright in their, your Highness? Didn’t get enough beauty sleep last night?’

Goku peers into the cell. Unlike most, this prisoner hadn’t approached the front of the cell, instead seeming to have remained in the small bed, completely covered in blankets. 

‘C’mon, prince, you don’t even have a cellmate to keep you up. No excuses for you.’

Eventually, the lump on the bed shuffles, and a hand slides out from beneath the covers. The surprisingly dainty looking limb twists, wrist flicking, a middle finger proudly presented.

‘Prick.’ The guard snorts. ‘Come on, viewing time at the zoo is over.’

They’re lead forward a few steps, but not before a voice cuts through Goku, forcing their entire party to stop.

‘Hey, Kakarot. Nice of you to come visit. Took your time though.’

That name….he hadn’t used that name since he was a child. And there were only a few people who even knew what his birth name even was.

‘Pipe down, Raditz!’

Goku cringes, turning to face the owner of the voice, and sure enough, just a few feet down the corridor, his elder brother is pressed against the bars of the cell, waving mock cheerily at him.

‘You!’ The guard barks at him, ‘Explain! You know this inmate?’

‘He’s…’ Goku flounders, staring at the man he hadn’t seen for years. He’d cut all ties with him so long ago… ‘...he’s my brother.’

Within seconds he’s being marched from the block, Raditz grinning at him as he passes, separated from the rest of the group and dumped into an interview room.

‘You wanna explain this?! You were asked if you had any connections with anyone in this prison before you were allowed entry.’

‘I didn’t even know he was here! I haven’t seen him in years!’

‘You weren’t aware your brother was in prison? And you wanna explain the name, too?’

Goku takes a breath before explaining.

‘Our parents both died when we were kids. We were fostered by the same guy, no other relatives, y’know? Raditz didn’t like it, started to cause trouble, got involved with the wrong people. When he turned 16, no one was responsible for him any more, so he left home. I stayed with the man who adopted us. He died when I was 18, but, he was more family to me than my parents...I never knew them. It’s a long story, but he called me Goku, so when he died I changed my name to Son Goku.’

‘Keep going.’

‘Last time I saw Raditz, my oldest boy was just a toddler. I hadn’t seen him since he left home but he tracked me down, said he wanted to make up for everything. We went out together, took my boy to the park. I went to get some food for us he grabbed Gohan and ran. I managed to track him down. He was buying drugs, but I pretended I didn’t know what he was doing. He always thought I was dumb. I took him home, and when he was asleep, I called the police and turned him in. They arrested him. That was the last time I saw him. I didn’t want him anywhere near my boy if he was going to be dangerous.’

The guard is silent for a minute, absorbing the story, before he leaves Goku under the watch of another guard. He returns a while a later.

‘Your story checks out. But we’re going to have to rethink some stuff. We can’t risk you speaking with your brother.’

‘I don’t want him out of prison. He deserves to be in here.’

The guards nods.

‘Warden is ok for you to stay as part of the programme, but you won’t be allowed to work with Raditz. We’ll pair you with someone else.’

‘Raditz is part of the programme?’

‘He could benefit from some anger management, so yes.’

‘Huh.’

‘Your colleagues have already been paired up with their prisoners while we were in here. Hang tight, we’ll get you sorted.’

Again, he’s left under guard for a short while until the lead guard comes back in.

‘Alright, Mr. Son, with me. We’ve got your partner sorted.’

‘Uhhh...’

He doesn’t have time to respond, the guard already leading the way, and he follows him down another sequence of twisting corridors until they reach another room. He can’t really tell the difference between them all, save for this one being larger, a security camera in the corner and he looks around the grey square with its concrete floor.

‘So...this is where we’re training?’ 

‘Yeah. Though I’m not sure how much you’ll get done. They’ve bringing him now but...don’t expect him to be co-operative.’

‘Can you tell me something about him?’

‘Sure. His name’s Vegeta Breigh, junior if you’re being specific. Most of the inmates know him as ‘the prince’. His father is pretty well known in the business world, among...other worlds.’

‘You’re saying his dad’s a crime lord?’

‘Pretty much. Can’t touch him though, got nothing to prove, though we’ll bring him down one day. When junior first got locked up they called him the prince to mock him. Nowadays...well, he’s been here long enough to earn the respect of the inmates.’

‘...how long?’

‘Sentenced to life, though he was a minor, technically, at the time, so his sentence would have been reviewed after 12 years. He’s not been a good boy though, got his sentence extended for assaulting others.’

‘So..he’s violent?’

‘Highly. Doesn’t give a shit about anything or anyone but himself.’

‘So what did he do? You said he was a minor?’

‘Murder. 6 people. He was 16 at the time. Didn’t even try to defend himself, like he was proud of it. Sick son of a bitch if you ask me.’

‘So I get to train him?’

‘Hey, you’re the world champion, aren’t you? Not going to be intimidated by a low life murder are you?’

‘We don’t fight to the death.’

‘Look...he’s here forever. His daddy makes sure life isn’t too uncomfortable for him, and he’s probably happy running his own little gang here. But the psychologist insists he’s got issues that need addressing, focusing and controlling his anger and all that shit. They reckon this is the perfect outlet.’

Goku can’t help but groan. He wasn’t concerned about his safety, he was pretty sure he could wipe the floor with the guy, regardless of his temper. It was more...this guy didn’t deserve the service. If he’d killed without remorse, why get special treatment over those who had committed their crimes out of desperation?

Because daddy had influence.

‘I…’

He’s interrupted by the sudden clunk and squeak of the metal door being opened. A moment later, and a guard enters, leading in the prisoner.

To say that Goku is underwhelmed was an understatement. Instead of the hulking beast he’d expected, he’s presented with a rather small man, at least a head shorter than himself, and a fraction as broad, his jet black hair styled in an impressively upward direction. He obviously trained, well developed muscle evident even through the blue jumpsuit, attitude oozing from him as he moved into the room. He seemed unconcerned about the shackles on his wrists, his movements sleek as he turns dark eyes on him.

Unable to help it, under a glittering, malicious gaze, Goku tenses, suddenly aware of what he’s facing and Vegeta seems to pick up on it as the guards take a few steps back, leaving them to face each other, his thin lips quirking ever so slightly as Goku stares down at him.

‘Hello, Kakarot.’


	2. Chapter 2

The idiot they’ve brought in to ‘train’ with him looks like a bigger mess than he could have thought possible. He’s dressed in orange and blue, some lose fitting garment that leaves arms bare, hair in disarray and he lifts an eyebrow, waiting in amused silence as the man stares at him. Perhaps he had simply never met a convicted murderer before. Seems likely.

Eventually, the man seems to get a hold of himself, his expression calming.

‘Hi there, Vegeta. And it’s Goku.’

‘Is it? Your brother seems to disagree, though perhaps I misunderstood. You did seem to leave the cells in rather a hurry.’

Confusion colours Goku’s face, and he blinks back at him for a minute before understanding dawns.

‘You were the one in the cell, under the sheets.’

‘Bingo. You’re not as stupid as you look. Just as well.’

The martial artist’s face darkens, eyes narrowing slightly.

‘You know Raditz?’

‘He’s an associate of mine. Gave me all sorts of interesting info about you. How are the wife and kids?’

Alarm flashes, large hands clenching and he smirks at the other man, awaiting his comeback. This, at least, was far more entertaining than whatever this ‘Goku’ had planned, and he was quite willing to string the entertainment along for as long as he could.

‘So you’ve been here for a long time, huh?’

Irritation flares in Vegeta’s chest, and he glares.

‘Must get boring. So how about we get on with some training?’

Vegeta snorts, turning his gaze away from the idiot in front of him, looking down at his cuffs as if they’re far more interesting than anything else. He turns his wrist slightly, grunt as they press into his skin. He should be used to them by now, but the sensation of the pressure of metal against his skin never did grow any less unpleasant. It didn’t help that they always pressed into scar tissue, laid down years ago when his first cuffs had been tight enough to cut into his skin.

‘Well, since you seemed so interested before, how about I tell you a little more about myself?’ Goku offers, though he can tell the man means to talk at him regardless of his response. He opts to stay silent.

‘Cool. Name’s Son Goku, I’m head trainer at the Kame House School of Martial Arts, and ten times world marital arts champion. I started training at about...oh, five years old, I guess. My first tutor was my adoptive dad. When I was old enough, he introduced me to master Roshi who runs Kame House. Or he did, he’s retired now, so I take most of the work of running it, but it’s his business so he still gets final say on everything. You’d think him being the age he is would stop him from getting involved in the training, but he still steps in now and then.’

Vegeta sighs to himself, eyes straying back to the idiot, hoping his own expression suitably conveys his boredom and contempt. What, the idiot thought because he wore a uniform and was supposedly good at this martial arts shit he was supposed to be impressed?

‘So the school will take anyone who shows promise in the arts, no matter their background or age. We have a scholarship programme for those from less fortunate backgrounds, so we turn out some top fighters. Not everyone wants to go as far as the world championship, but we get a good number involved every year.’

He bites his tongue, trying to resist the urge to tell the man where he can shove his special school. But he gets the impression that any verbal response will be taken as encouragement, so he simply seethes at the man, waiting for him to lose interest and go away.

‘I’ve been told that the prison psychologist thinks you’d be a good candidate for the program. Says you’ve got aggression issues that could be better put to use in a more constructive practice than threatening your inmates, so that’s why I’m here.’

His control is slipping, and Vegeta takes a breath. It would be satisfying to beat this guy to a bloody mess, then see how he feels about his stupid fucking programme. Screw the extra time on his sentence, he was never getting out anyway.

‘It’s ok if you’re intimidated. I can understand why.’

That does it. This preachy asshole can go on about his control and special fucking school all he wanted, but no one got to call him chicken and walk away. He strains against his cuff, his anger bubbling over, snarling at the other man as victory shines in the other’s eyes.

‘You think I’m intimidated by a shitshow like you? I fucking killed six guys when I was a kid, you think I can’t take you because your Hogwarts bullshit is going to save you? You’re even dumber than I gave you credit for.’

‘So that’s a yes then?’

‘Get these cuffs off me and I’ll show you.’

Goku smirks a little, then looks to the two guards stationed behind him, nodding to them. Instinct tells him to lay the guards out and make a break for it as soon as he can, but he’s tried that before and he knows it won’t work. Especially when they approach him together, one with the key, the other with his tazer in hand.

It at least gives him some small satisfaction when they back off as quickly as possible when the cuffs are off and he smirks, rolling his shoulders, taking a moment to enjoy being able to do so before checking his wrists. They’re bruised, as always, but its less than usual and he shakes it off.

‘Come on then, Kakarot.’

The larger man’s eye twitches at the name, but he nods, stretching before settling into a defensive stance.

Coward.

Vegeta rushes him, darting in faster than he knows the man can predict, and delivering a hard uppercut to the taller man’s chin, watching in satisfaction as the man’s head snaps up. In rapid succession he rains blows into his opponent’s torso, enjoying the steady crack of fists against flesh, the way he staggers back, grunting as he falls to one knee.

Grinning, Vegeta takes a step back, letting him catch his breath. It would make the fool’s defeat so much sweeter to let him think he had a chance.

‘Wow, not bad. You’re fast.’ Goku announces, climbing back to his feet. He doesn’t seem concerned by the beating he’s just received, more pleasantly surprised.

‘Oh I’m just warming up Kakarot. Now let’s see if you’re worth all those fancy titles.’

He rushes him again, but to his credit, Kakarot isn't dumb enough to fall for the same trick twice, and he dodges him easily, a blow in the small of his back sending him to the floor.

Vegeta grunts, rolling and jumping back to his feet, before launching another take. Again, the other man dodges his attacks, waiting for his moments to strike, and Vegeta finds himself racking up defeats in short order, barely able to land a hit on him. When he does, they barely seem to make an impact, only enough to give him pause for a second. 

The exercise room is too warm, too poorly ventilated for so much activity and Vegeta’s breath begins to heave in his chest, sweat running down his brow. He pauses to wipe it away, pulling the top of his jumpsuit down to allow him to cool quicker. It does very little, but the moment allows him to catch his breath before he attempts to strike again, frustration making his punches sloppy.

He doesn’t know how long they fight for, only that eventually Goku holds up a hand.

‘I think that’s enough for today.’

‘It’s enough when I say it is!’ Vegeta bellows. He rushes him again, feinting this time, but even so he finds himself caught, restrained, the martial artist somehow twisting his arms behind his back before pinning him to the cold concrete.

‘Enough. You’ve got good stamina and technique, and you’re strength is way more than I thought it would be for someone you’re size. But your psychologist is right, you need to reign that anger in, harness it, or you’ll never get anywhere.’

‘Don’t give me your zen bullshit. You get to train all day everyday, I get a couple of hours a week in the gym. We’re not on a level playing field.’

‘Huh. Well I guess the only way to get around that is for you to come and train with me, isn’t it?’

He knows what’s happening, knows exactly that this motherfucker is manipulating him into his programme and he doesn’t care.

‘...fine. I’ll come to your stupid training sessions. And once I’ve gotten stronger, Kakarot, you’ll be pulp by the time I’m done with you.’

Goku doesn’t say anything to that, and from the way he’s pressed to the floor, he can’t see his face. All he knows is that the guards are stepping forwards again, the cuffs snapping around his wrists again. He’s hauled to his feet, turned to face the larger man.

‘Good spar, Vegeta. I’ll see you next week.’

He can’t say anything before he’s propelled from the room by his guards, guided down to the shower room. He’s given two minutes to rinse the sweat from his body, the grim grey block of soap drying his skin even as he lathers, sluicing himself clean as effectively as he can in the time he has. Then its back to his cell and he all but collapses onto his bunk.

Disquiet rumbles in his chest, frustrated at himself, irritated as the easy cockiness of the other man. He didn’t even seem all that concerned once he’d gotten over the initial shock of his threats. An odd man. Most people who encountered him were nervous, instantly afraid, but this one…

He’d wipe that smile from his face, make him fear him. And all the while the idiot would be under the impression that he’s ‘helping’ him, healing him. He chuckles to himself at the thought, making himself more comfortable on the thin mattress.

The psychologist was right. Maybe this would be good for him. It gave him something to focus on, and he could work out in the process. He couldn’t deny there was a base, primal joy to the motions of fighting, feeling his body being pushed, relishing the vibrations through his fists on contact, the smell of blood and sweat in the air. And best of all, there were no repercussions to it.

The more he though about it, the more Vegeta realised the situation was a win-win.

Rolling onto his side, he allows himself to doze, the clunks of cell doors and the murmurs of voices standard background noise to him now. It’s only a familiar voice calling his name that rouses him from his bed.

‘Hey Vegeta, come on, let’s get some food.’

He startles to consciousness, sitting up in his bunk, finding Nappa staring at him. The door to his cell was open and a quick glance to the clock tells him he’s dozed the afternoon away.

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.’

He staggers upright, stretching, before joining the giant.

‘Turles and Raditz went ahead. You were out of it man.’

He grunts, not really willing to indulge Nappa’s insipid conversation as they make their way to the canteen. Dinner is the usual boring fare and he rolls his eyes at more lumpy potatoes and he settles down on the bench opposite the other two men who’ve already finished eating.

‘So, how was playtime with little ‘Goku’?’ Raditz asks, cackling.

Vegeta glares, shovelling food into his mouth until some of his hunger has abated. Apparently the exercise earlier had taken more out of him than he’d thought.

‘He’s a smug shit, and I’m going to wipe the smile off his face next time.’

‘Next time?’ Turles asks, intrigued, ‘What you didn’t kill him this time?’

‘It’s more fun to play with your prey first, Turles. I know you’re an ‘instant gratification’ type, but do try to understand that some of us play the long game for fun.’

‘If you say so.’

‘Fuck off.’

Turles laughs.

‘You wouldn’t believe the guy they paired me with. Little chickenshit kept stammering everytime he talked to me.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Nothing. Just told him that if he dropped his guard for a second I’d do to him what I did to my girlfriend.’

Vegeta snorts, amused at the image.

‘He’s not coming back then?’ Raditz asked.

‘Not if he’s got more than half a brain cell. You really having yours come back, Vegeta?’

‘For fuck sake, yes, how many times do I need to say it? I enjoy beating the shit out of idiots, and this one doesn’t get my sentence extended. It’s a win-win.’

‘You’re doing what they want.’ Nappa accuses.

‘I’m doing what I want, and what they think they want.’

‘Wait, what?’

‘Nevermind Raditz, don’t strain yourself.’

Annoyed by the suggestion, Vegeta shovels more food into his mouth, grunting at any further questions aimed at him. He leaves them when he’s done, making his way back to his cell. Now that some time had passed, he was beginning to feel the ache in his muscles from the earlier exercise. He’d rest for the remainder of the day, and then tomorrow, hit the gym.

Next time Goku showed up, he wouldn’t know what hit him.


	3. Chapter 3

‘C’mon, Vegeta, you’re dropping your guard again.’

‘Fuck off.’

Alright, Goku thinks, if that’s how he’s feeling today. He dashes in, taking advantage of that weakness, slamming his fist into the slight curve of the other man’s waist. He goes down instantly, groaning and Goku reaches down, pulling him to his feet.

‘Told ya.’

Vegeta doesn’t tell him to fuck off again, but he can see it clearly enough in the man’s expression.

‘Five minute break?’

‘Whatever.’

Vegeta speak for ‘yes’.

In the handful of weeks, and by extension, the handful of training session’s he’d shared with the prisoner, Goku had found it increasingly easy to read the other’s moods and mannerisms, the subtle tones of his voice. The vast majority of Vegeta’s anger and aggression appeared to be bluster, though he’d been wrong on occasion and suffered for it.

Across from him, Vegeta takes a drink, sat on the floor. One thing he had found, the man wasn’t one for casual conversation. That wasn’t going to stop him from trying though.

‘So...what do you do when you’re not here?’

‘I am always here.’

‘No... I mean like, when you’re not training with me.’

‘I sit in my cell and wring my hands, wracked with guilt for my sins.’ Vegeta smirks.

He ignore the sarcasm. One of the prisoner’s favourite methods of stopping him from talking to him was to remind him of his crime, knowing his distaste would make him refrain from attempting it for some time. Not today though. For weeks he’s got snippets of conversation out of him. Today is the day he’ll get more.

‘Seriously though. I can’t imagine what it’s like.’

‘You are welcome to try. Have a sit and think for a while.’

‘Do you get bored? Are you allowed to watch TV and stuff?’

‘TV is dull.’

‘You don’t have any shows you like?’

‘No.’

‘Well there’s gotta be something you do.’

‘Prison is intended as punishment, Kakarot. That seems to have escaped your notice, but there you are. I am not supposed to be enjoying myself.’

‘But you must get rewards for good behaviour and stuff, right? Like extra time in the gym, or...more family visits and stuff?’

‘...I don’t do ‘good behaviour’. And my family don’t care to visit...’

That’s new, and Goku tries not to look too excited at the prospect of getting some information out of the man. He’s not entirely sure why he cares. He’s a murderer and the general consensus about murderers was that they didn’t deserve attention or kindness. Goku’s opinion didn’t tend to differ from that, but something about the man had him hooked. And he’d never heard the full facts about the crime that Vegeta had committed. No doubt he was guilty, but..?

‘You have a family?’

‘Most people do.’

‘So who is there?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Oh come on, I’m not asking for your life story.’

‘Why do you even care?’

‘I just...want to know you a little better.’

Vegeta’s eyes narrow, glittering darkly but Goku meets his gaze calmly.

‘Does it surprise you that much?’

‘Yes. And I don’t care for it. Now shut up and train.’

‘Alright,’ Goku concedes. He can always needle the other man later. He claps his hands together, jumping to his feet. ‘Think we can get another hour before the guards come back.’

‘If you stop running your mouth maybe.’

Grinning, Goku launches back into it, trading blows with the prisoner. He’s impressed with how quickly the other man catches on to techniques, absorbing the knowledge and executing the techniques almost flawlessly each time he’s shown a new one. Most of the time, Goku didn’t even have to show him how to do the moves, he seemed to be able to learn simply from copying. 

He wonders if it’s passion that drives it, or simply having something else to do that isn’t sitting in a cell. Of course, the hunger Vegeta shows for learning attacks could be something more untoward, but he tries to see the best in people. Some people called it naive, but he’d rather give someone a second chance than throw away an opportunity to allow someone to be a better person. Sometimes all it took was trust.

‘You see Raditz much?’ He asks, deflecting a blow. He’s not quite out of breath yet, and one thing he’d found about Vegeta was that he was more likely to talk if he was fighting. He wondered if it was the movement that promoted his more free speech, or whether it was simply that he was too distracted to block his questions.

‘Ugh, you’re still talking?’

‘Just answer me.’

‘Yes, I see him everyday. He’s almost as annoying as you are.’

‘Almost?’ Goku grins.

‘If I had to put up with your level of annoying from his everyday I would’ve added another few years to my sentence by now.’

‘Well at least he’s someone to talk to.’

‘Oh like that’s an issue.’ Vegeta counters. He drops to the floor, sweeping a leg out in an attempt to knock Goku’s legs from under him.

Goku neatly sidesteps. The smaller man didn’t seem to quite realise his legs didn’t have the reach he thought they did.

‘I hear you’re the reason he’s in here.’ Vegeta states, jumping back to his feet. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, white undershirt damp with sweat above the rich blue of his jumpsuit.

Trying not to grin at his success in getting the other man to talk, Goku slows his movements.

‘Kinda.’

‘Kind of? You either did or you didn’t. Which is it?’

‘I turned him in for having drugs. I didn’t know he had other stuff going on.’

‘Would you have if you’d known?’

That was a point Goku hadn’t considered before and he pauses to think, before grunting as a fist lands squarely in his face. Vegeta springs away from him, laughing, his fist raised again.

A pounding on the metal door to the room gives them both pause.

‘Everything ok in there, Mr Son?’

‘Finm,’ Goku chokes out, wiping blood from his nose onto his gi shirt. ‘Dray fist, we’re goobh.’

‘...Are you sure?’

‘Yup.’ He’s careful to keep his voice chipper. Any hint of distress and the guards would be in and cuffing Vegeta before either of them had a chance to protest. In all honesty, the blow wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to. It stung, made his eyes water, but it wasn’t like he’d never encountered it before.

Vegeta cocks his head, arms folded across his chest now, grinning darkly.

‘You get distracted when you talk.’ The smaller man scoffs.

‘Yeah. So do you.’

‘I do not. I am entirely focused.’

It’s Goku’s turn to laugh at the indignation in the criminal’s voice, though Vegeta’s darkening expression cuts that short. It’s not that he’s threatened, per say, but the man’s ego, although needing to be take down a few pegs, was fairly fragile and laugher that he perceived to be aimed at him would make him clam up faster than anything. He wonders if it was life around other criminals, who would surely take advantage of any uncertainty on his part, that had formed his personality into the aggressive little man in front of him, or whether it was something much earlier.

He motions for a halt to Vegeta, grabbing a towel from the side to staunch the blood running from his nose. It was slowing, but there was no point in letting it drip everywhere.

‘...I don’t know...’ he comments finally, earning him a quirked brow from Vegeta.

‘What?’ the smaller man snaps.

‘You asked if I would have turned Raditz in if I’d known he had more crimes to his name. I don’t know.’

‘Are you still on that?’

‘You asked.’

‘Of course. But you still don’t know the answer? You’d consider willingly turn your own brother in? I thought you valued family.’

‘Raditz put my boy in danger.’ He answers.

Vegeta doesn’t answer, as though he’s lost interest, and he turns away.

‘We’re done.’

‘Huh?’

‘We’re done for today. Hour’s up.’

To Goku’s surprise the inmate walks to the door, rapping on it to call the guards back in. 

‘Vegeta?’

‘I’ll see you next week, Kakarot.’

In short succession the guards enter, dragging the prisoner’s arms behind his back, cuffs clicking into place tightly around his wrists. He’s propelled from the small room without another word and Goku watches quietly until he’s gone before leaving.

Confused, he mulls over the other man’s behaviour even as he makes his way over to Capsule Corp. to pick his boys up from their play date with Bulma’s children. Gohan wasn’t much interested in them of course, several years older than the toddlers already, but he enjoyed learning from Bulma. Goten, on the other hand, was barely younger than Trunks and Bra, and the boys in particular already seemed to be fast friends. 

He arrives to find them sat together, eating snowcones in the summer heat.

‘Good day, boys?’ 

‘Yeah! Bulma’s showing me how to fix a motorbike! It seems pretty simple. Once we’re done she said she might teach me to ride it!’ Gohan announces, gesturing as though he’s gripping onto handlebars.

‘That’s cool. You think it’ll take long?’

‘No. Maybe a few hours. She said she’ll wait ‘til I’m over next to finish it.’

‘Great! And what about you, Goten?’

Goten, just two years old, isn’t much of a talker but he chatters happily about his mini adventures with Trunks. Goku nods along, encouraging his youngest until they reach home and he bundles the boys out of the car and into the house. A couple of frozen pizzas go into the oven for dinner as he changes Goten for bed, leaving him briefly under Gohan’s watch as he showers himself, washing away the day’s exertions.

Pizzas ready, he settles down on the sofa with his boys, Goten resting against him as he chews on a slice.

‘What did you do today, dad? Were you at the prison again?’ Gohan asks.

‘Yup. I’m training one of the prisoners, remember?’

‘Yeah. But why?’

‘Well...the prisoner I’m working with...he hurt some people really bad, a long time ago. He’s kinda angry, but the doctors at the prison thinks if he’s got some way to focus that anger, he might be less likely to hurt people.’

‘But he’s in prison...so he’s not going to hurt anyone anyway, right?’

‘Well, he can hurt the other prisoners.’

‘Oh, I didn’t think about it like that. He must be awfully mean if he can beat up other prisoners.’

‘Yeah. But he might calm down.’

‘But if he hurt people, dad, why does he get help? He’s in prison because he’s a bad person.’

‘I guess he deserves another chance. He was very young when he did it, and he’s only been in prison since then. He could change if we give him that chance.’

‘I guess that makes sense.’ Gohan pauses his eating to look at his father, eyes bright. ‘Do you think it will work?’

He should expect the question, but he still has to take a moment to think about it before he answers.

‘I don’t know. I hope it does. He seems to be enjoying it, and he’s getting better every time I see him.’

‘Does he want to be a good person though?’

‘...I don’t know that either Gohan. He doesn’t talk a lot, and not about himself. He’s pretty private. But maybe? I guess when you’ve lived in prison so long, it’s probably hard to think about stuff like that. But I’ll keep going, and we’ll see what happens. Do you think that’s a good idea?’

‘It sounds good. We should give him a chance, I suppose. But the statistics on successful rehabilitation are quite low, dad.’

Sometimes he forgets how clever his son is, and the maturity that comes with that intelligence.

‘He’s changing though. He does talk more, and he actually wants to fight, and it seems like his aggression is more about the fight than just because he’s angry, you know?’

Gohan nods, almost sage like, tucking back into his pizza.

‘I hope it works. It’d be nice to think that people can change.’

As if the conversation had never happened, the boy turns his attention to the TV, watching whatever show is on. Next to him, Goten begins to nod off and Goku scoops the toddler into his arms.

‘An hour, Gohan, and then it’s your bed time too.’

When he returns to the living room his son has buried himself in a book, the TV still burbling away in the background. He settles down again, grabbing his now cold pizza and finishing it. Despite the food and the entertainment in the background he finds his attention wandering to his trainee. It sits uneasily on him, not used to his thoughts being consumed so and he tries to shake himself from it, fetching himself a beer, flicking over to an obnoxiously loud movie, complete with exaggerated explosions.

Gohan rolls his eyes at that, excusing himself to bed, and he wishes him a good night distractedly, watching the movie until his eyes drift shut.


	4. Chapter 4

11:00 hours rings in the morning as one of the multiple head counts that occur per day at South City prison and Vegeta sighs, yawns, drops his book, stands, stretches and wanders over to the bars of his cell, looping his arms through to rest on one of the horizontal bars. The guards are almost sluggish in their approach this morning, and he yawns as he waits, understanding what the delay is when one of them stops in front of his cell.

‘Arms out, prince. Since you’re halfway there already.’

Ah. Random cell search. He wonders if someone’s handed over some information, or whether it is truly random.

Shrugging, he extends his arms as asked, cuffs clicking into place around his wrists before the door swings in and the guards enter. His bunk is all but pulled apart, pillows and mattress on the floor as they check through sheets and cases. The meagre stack of books in the corner is pulled off too, pages flicked through, but at least those are treated with a little more care.

‘Cell’s clear.’ The leader searcher confirms, and Vegeta smirks to himself. He wasn’t dumb enough to hide his contraband in his own cell. 

Hands on his shoulders announce a more thorough search, and he shifts his stance wider, knowing the drill by now. He’s not carrying anyway. Again, he’s not stupid. He can’t help the grimace though as gloved hands run down the length of his arms, checking his sleeves, his collar, then down over his chest and abdomen. 

Very thorough. He grits his teeth, as hands run over his unmentionables, his backside, before moving onto his thighs.

‘Try not to enjoy yourself too much there.’ He scoffs, earning himself a glare, if nothing more, before he’s made to step out of the white trainers that are standard issue in this hell hole.

‘All clear.’

The guards step away, exiting the cell as quickly as they’d entered, notes marked down on a PDA before his hands are released. He automatically sets to putting his bunk back in order, grumbling to himself as he tucks blankets in. Task complete, he grabs one of the books, settling back onto the bed to wait until the door is unlocked and flicking to where he’d left the bookmark. He’s read the book cover to cover a few times already, but fortunately re-reading it had only revealed more detail each time he went through the story.

‘We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd  
In England and in Ireland, not confessing  
Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers  
With strange invention: but of that to-morrow,  
When therewithal we shall have cause of state  
Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: adieu,  
Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you?’

The words don’t stick, their meaning lost to him, and he pauses, blinking, sighing when he realises his mind had been elsewhere and returning to the top of the page, beginning again.

‘We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd  
In England and in Ireland, not confessing  
Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers  
With strange invention: but of that to-morrow,  
When therewithal we shall have cause of state’

It was Kakarot’s fault. Ever since he’d started training with him and focusing on that aspect he’d found his attention to anything waning and…

He’s lost the sentence again, unable to grasp the flow and he huffs to himself, heading back to the top of the page.

‘‘We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd  
In England and in Ireland, not confessing’

He was going to punch that bastard as soon as their next training session came around, squarely in the face, maybe make his nose bleed again as he had done so many weeks ago. The fucker thought he could just come into his life, try and make him ‘calm down’, making himself unwelcome in both physical and mental presence and….

He’s there again. Goku. In his mind, his goofy, obnoxious smile caught in detail in his memory and Vegeta snaps the book shut, sitting up.

‘That…bastard...’ he mutters lowly to himself, aware that he’s repeating himself out loud now and he stands, pacing around the cell, suddenly itching to get out. He needs to train, needs to work the tension from his shoulders, ignoring the part of him that wants for it to be time just to see the other man again, to be met by someone who doesn’t judge everything he does or is.

A buzz a few minutes later announces that the cell doors have been unlocked, and he barges from the cell, stomping towards the canteen without a backward glance. Raditz is at his shoulder within a few minutes, and he’s aware of Nappa and Turles adding to that, but he doesn’t pay them any mind, too busy getting lunch to bother greeting them. The act of chewing helps him take his mind off the tension, at least, as the others settle beside him.

‘They find anything on that search, Geta?’ Turles asks, lips curled into a smug grin.

He grunts, indicating his disinterest in discussing the matter, shovelling more food into his mouth.

‘They didn’t find anything, anywhere. Weird, right? No contraband anywhere? They must have been tipped off to come looking but...’ Raditz fills in.

‘You think someone tipped off the tip off?’ Nappa asks

‘What else?’

‘What and you just happened to not have anything on you either?’ Turles jabs at Raditz.

‘Hey man, I’m clean. Told ya.’

‘Are you fuck.’

Their yammering is giving him a headache and he shoots a dirty glare at the two, warning them quietly to desist.

‘What? We’re not allowed to talk ‘cos you’re pissed that they mussed your mattress.’

‘Shut up, Turles.’

‘Wow, you’re pissy today, even for you,’ Turles bites back before his expression shifts into something he finds utterly distasteful. ‘Oh, I see, it’s thursday, isn’t it? You’ve got almost as whole week before your tension release session.’

‘Shut. Up. Turles.’ He growls now, irritation rising.

‘I can’t believe you’re still doing that thing.’

‘I get to hit someone. Why would I stop?’

‘Well yeah but it’s more fun when they don’t punch back.’

‘What you can’t cope with an actual challenge? Pathetic.’

‘Enough, you two.’ Nappa grunts.

Vegeta has little to no interest in obeying the man, but he finds he has even less interest in continuing to engage with Turles and he turns back to his food.

‘Oh, such a shame. I was enjoying learning about our little prince’s hobby. You needn’t spoil my fun, Nappa.’

The voice makes Vegeta tense, his shoulders rising around his ears and he looks over his shoulder, feeling his stomach turn.

If Vegeta himself was half-seriously known as the ‘prince’ of the prison, then ‘Frieza’ was almost certainly the overlord, and as feared by inmates and officers alike. He’s barely as tall as Vegeta himself, slighter than him too, and yet there was something about him that was deeply unsettling. It didn’t help that his penchant for torture was well known. Some of the inmates talked with hushed pride at how they were incarcerated at the same prison as him, a man who had racked up a body count higher than even Vegeta cared to think about.

Still, he was never one to back down, and showing fear in the face of such people didn’t help.

‘Can we help you, Frieza?’ He doesn’t know what the man’s real name is, but the nickname had stuck. It’s all he ever would be known as in these walls.

The man smiles coldly, eyes gleaming, too many teeth on display.

‘I was just thinking how nice it is for you that you’ve found such a productive hobby, and one that’s keeping you so well behaved for the guards.’

‘I have no desire to live out the rest of my life here. Unlike you, some of us my have a chance to see the outside world again.’

Frieza shrugs, the move decidedly graceful, turning his reddish gaze onto Vegeta more fully.

‘Oh? Is that so? And what motivates you so, I wonder?’

At his shoulder, Frieza’s two henchmen chuckle quietly. Vegeta narrows his eyes, looking over the odd trio – pale, frail looking Frieza, overweight and perpetually sunburnt Dodoria, and the stately Zarbon, his arms tattooed with shimmering green scales.

‘Freedom.’ He answers simply, biting his tongue. He could lamp one of them easily enough, maybe do some damage, but it probably wouldn’t be worth it long term.

‘Oho, is that what they’re calling it these days? I thought it maybe had something to do with your little training buddy.’

‘The walking punching bag, you mean?’

‘You are the only one left who’s keeping up with the programme, aren’t you? I just assumed that there had to be a little more going on than simply….training.’

He snarls at the insinuation, glaring up at the pale figure.

‘Or are you just a good boy for our guards? I always wondered if you’d make a good pet, Vegeta, but I assumed it would be for me that you would bend over for.’

He’s on his feet before he even registers what he’s doing, his fist aiming for the lithe figure’s face but the other proves to be surprisingly fast, dodging out of the way at the last second and all Vegeta achieves is to skim the platinum blonde crop of hair, staggering when he over balances. There’s a foot in his stomach a moment later, knocking the wind out of him, and he gasps for breath, sent skittering into a nearby table.

Around him, noise erupts, cheers from those excited by the prospect of a fight, angry shouts from those whose table he’s just upended.

Vegeta staggers to his feet, feeling his back already aching at the impact, before charging back to where chaos was unfolding, his heart beating furiously. Frieza had perched himself on top of the table Vegeta had previously been sat at, watching in amusement as Nappa, Turles and Raditz grappled with Zarbon and Dodoria. A shrill laugh erupts from the little man as Raditz goes down from a punch to the face by Dodoria.

Blood high, Vegeta jumps in, driving the hulking form back away from Raditz. In all honesty he had no real care for the man, but he was loyal at least. And besides, no one took out one his own but him.

Goku’s training, he realises, has paid off more than he had ever given it credit for as he faces off against Dodoria. He seems slow and clumsy, and it’s with relative ease that he darts in, anger flowing through him and effortlessly driving the flurry of punches he delivers to his opponent’s face, chest and stomach.

The oaf stumbles back from him, blood flowing from his nose, a split lip, his pudgy hands raised defensively now. Vegeta dives in again without a second thought. He has the advantage, Dodoria caught off guard and he presses in, a kick knocking the grunt’s legs out from beneath him. He’s on top of him as soon as he’s down, letting his rage guide him, fists pummeling into pliant flesh even as thick fingered hands stop resisting, falling limp to the side.

There’s blood sprayed up his forearms by the time he realises Dodoria is unconscious, the man’s face more blob like than it already was, and he pulls back, satisfied, buoyant on his victory as he turns his gaze on Zarbon.

He’s not sure how, but the pretty boy has managed to pin Nappa to the ground, despite the fact that man is significantly larger. Turles, he finds, is nowhere to be seen. Typical. 

A full body tackle just about succeeds in knocking Zarbon off Nappa and Vegeta has every intention of leaving the lackey in the same condition as Dodoria. This one, it seems however, is far more prepared than his cellmate, seizing Vegeta by the arms and throwing him away.

He clatters into another table, feeling plates snap and slide beneath him. Cheers sound again, for Zarbon, or something else, he doesn’t know and he staggers to his feet again. Already though, the tattooed man is bearing down on him, a plastic chair in hand that smashes into Vegeta’s legs, taking him to the floor no sooner than he’d managed to right himself. There’s a hand around his neck, choking and Zarbon is pulling him off the floor, somehow leaving his feet hanging inches from the ground as he raises him to eye level.

It’s all he can do to sputter and gasp for breath, his legs kicking uselessly as he begins to panic from the lack of oxygen. His legs aren’t even long enough to catch the other in the stomach and the edges of his vision begin to turn fuzzy, neck pulled and aching from his entire weight hanging from it. Relief comes in the form of being slammed into the tiled floor again, his body ignoring pain in favour of dragging in air.

‘Don’t have too much fun now Zarbon.’ Frieza’s voice cuts through the air, the feet in front of him moving away to be replaced by a smaller pair. It makes little difference when one of those dainty feet smashes into his upturned face, a warm splash following as his nose shatters, lip splitting and he wonders if he looks as bad as Dodoria did. 

‘Aww, poor prince, are…’

He doesn’t know where he finds the energy from, only that something about Frieza’s voice makes him enraged and he springs up and forwards, slamming into the man, barrelling him into the floor. Instantly, Zarbon’s arms are around him, dragging him off and he struggles, flailing, kicking, satisfied at the grunt the larger man gives when he makes contact with a knee. He’s dropped again, but already Frieza has recovered, and his weight is atop his back, resting on his shoulders to pin him as he delivers blow after blow into the small of his unprotected back.

The noise he wants to make catches in his chest under Frieza’s weight, and all he can do is let out a muffled, quiet moan, unable to free himself, unable to do anything other than struggle weakly as fire rips through his kidneys, feet pushing uselessly against the floor until a foot grinds into the back of a knee, halving his efforts.

To his shame, rescue comes in the form of the prison guards, harsh voices cutting through the noise around him. He hadn’t realised that in the wake of his own fight, others around them had begun to brawl. There’s more prisoners than officers, but the guards are armed and trained and organised. Eventually, Frieza is hauled away from him, cackling, but all Vegeta can manage is a groan of relief before his arms are pulled together, cuffs at his wrists. He’s dragged upright, but he finds his legs to be useless, unable to support his weight, and he slumps in the hold of the officers, vaguely aware of them talking. He’s not sure if it’s at him, or just generally, for black is encroaching on his vision and he welcomes it, sinking into silence.

–

Vegeta wakes to bright lights, eyes easing open to take in his surroundings in confusion. He recognises the room, vaguely, as that of the small infirmary the prison kept. He’d been here once before, many years ago, when he’d managed to get pneumonia. 

Gritting his teeth he attempts to sit up, failing when his head spins and his body aches. His back still feels as though its aflame, and he fumbles at he blanket, trying to pull it away to assess his injuries. Pain shooting through his hand halts him and he stops to investigate it with blurry vision. The blood has been cleaned away, but there are dressings over his knuckles, deep purple bruising and swelling turning his fingers into thick sausages.

‘They’re not broken, just badly bruised.’

A voice to his left startles him, and he jolts, head snapping to the owner of the voice, his instinct to fight flaring as his injured body assumed it was still under attack. It takes him a moment to realise that it’s a doctor speaking to him, and he works to calm himself, breathing slowly.

‘You seem lucid enough, at least. There wasn’t much risk of concussion, but at least we can rule it out already.’

‘I...’ Vegeta flinches, hearing his voice catch in his parched throat. The doctor hands him a small cup of water and he reaches for it with his less damaged hand, noting that there’s still blood beneath his nails.

‘Co-ordination’s fine then. No need to tell you to count my fingers, huh?’

Vegeta only grunts in response as the doctor taps information into his tablet, and he reaches up to his face. His eyelids are heavy and his left cheek seems hot and taut to the touch.

‘What are my injuries?’

The doctor lifts an eyebrow, tucking the tablet back under his arm again.

‘Fractured ribs and cheekbone, dislocated knee among the worst. Everything else is swelling and deep bruising, a few lacerations. We’ll keep you here for a few days just to make sure there’s no damage to your kidneys after that beating, but you should be fine to return to your cell to rest after that.’

He can’t help his reaction to growl at the mention of his defeat, but he’s too sore to do much else. The doctor knows it too, apparently, completely unperturbed.

‘I recommend you get some rest. Once you’re moved back to the block I doubt you’ll get any quality sleep.’

He can’t argue with that and he lets his head thump back to the pillow, grumbling to himself, feeling his eyelids drifting shut. Before he even realises he’d fallen asleep, he wakes again to noise, low voices that rouse him slowly. Grimacing, he lifts his hand to his face, finding however that it’s stopped after just a few inches. A quick glance to each of his wrists confirms he’s been restrained and he turns to question the guard beside his bed.

‘Wouldn’t want you getting ideas and hurting anyone after your little stunt.’

He snarls lowly, eyes drifting past the guards bulk to the adjacent bed, where he notices for the first time, the prone figure of Dodoria, still oddly pink from his ever present sunburn. There’s a heavy amount of bandages covering his face, tubes up his nose to aid with his breathing. He should feel pride at his feat, and he does, a little, but more than that, he knows that there will be repercussions for his actions. And he has a sinking feeling that he knows exactly what that will be.

‘The warden will see you when you can stay conscious long enough to have a conversation.’  
A grunt is all he can muster, and he drops his head back to the pillow, shifting on the bed, now keenly aware of the fabric at his wrists that’s halting his movements. He rolls his wrists some, turning his forearms upwards, feeling shoulder blades pressing to the mattress. More than that discomfort though, it’s the ache in his body that stops him from falling into a restful sleep, until eventually he feels a needle in his arm. He doesn’t fight it, glad for the release.

When he wakes again he feels somewhat more normal, his head clearer even if he’s acutely aware of the throbbing in his knee. The doctor seems happy enough with his recovery, and eager to have him out of his care. He’s provided with a meal, allowed to bathe quickly and dress, before being cuffed again and escorted from the ward. He’s not taken to his cell immediately, but to the warden’s office.

Vegeta groans inwardly. He’s not entirely sure how long it’s been since the fight, but he knows he’s struggling to walk on his knee, even with splint, and the desire to lie on his own bed is warring with his interest to know what his punishment will be.

The warden sees him almost immediately, at least, and he’s deposited into a hard plastic chair in front of the large desk. The warden, an ageing, weary looking man, fixes him with a hard stare that Vegeta gladly returns before the older man sinks back into his own padded chair.

‘You look like shit. I imagine you don’t feel much better than you look?’

He grunts, confirming.

‘Good. Then I’ll make this quick. You attacked a fellow prisoner. Why?’

‘He’s a dick.’

‘Everyone in here is a dick, Vegeta. Do you want to try to answer that again?’

‘He provoked me.’

‘How?’

Vegeta huffs, looking away to the glare at a plant on the other side of the room.

‘Frieza made...insinuations. I tried to punch him. Dodoria got in the way.’

‘And for that you left him in critical condition?’

He doesn’t answer him. What would be the point?

‘It would be easier in some ways to give you all knives and let you just butcher each other. It’s all some of you deserve. Unfortunately the law, and your families, won’t allow that, so I have to safeguard you.’

‘I had no intention of killing him. Just putting him in his place.’

‘Well that makes it acceptable then.’ The warden shoots back scathingly before sighing ‘In all honesty, Vegeta, I’m surprised it came to this. The psychologist seemed to think you were making progress since your martial arts sessions started. And now this.’

He knows what’s coming, tries to distance himself from the situation before it even occurs, schooling his face into something more apathetic.

‘If the sessions aren’t of any use, as they don’t seem to be, we may as well stop them. No sense in wasting money and time.’

His eye twitches. It’s the only indication he makes that the words bother him, and he hates himself for giving even that small tell. The warden’s eyebrows lift slightly, apparently having caught on to that tick.

‘Vegeta,’ the tone of his voice is off, something about it that pulls his attention to the other man, ‘I have yet to discuss these events with Mr. Son, but from the feedback I’ve had from him prior to this, he’s eager to keep working with you. That’s not something I would throw away, if I were you. So I’ll give you one chance.’

He pauses, moving around the desk to peer at him.

‘Are the sessions of any use to you? Would you like Mr Son to continue with his sessions?’

He huffs, defensive, holding himself upright, but the answer is already on his tongue even as he distracts himself by looking at a different plant.

‘Yes.’

‘I see. And why should I allow you to have something you enjoy when I should, in fact, be punishing you? I should add at least a year or two onto your sentence for this.’

‘I can control my temper. I just need to be around people who don’t treat me like shit.’

‘We all need that. Members of the public do it all the time without resorting to violence. Why should you be different?’ 

He growls lowly, irritated at the condescending tone that the warden seems to be employing. It’s unfortunate that he’s the only thing standing between him and the continuation of his training. He needs to swallow his pride, he knows that, but it was the only thing that had kept him going through his incarceration, to know that he had gotten through everything alone for the last decade.

‘Come on, Vegeta. It’s not hard. Prove to me you’re not the mindless animal that this violence implies. You’re still young enough to have a life, perhaps even outside of here, if you can show progress.’

He knows everything the warden says is true. For years he had maintained that the prison was his domain, but as long as Frieza was here, they all knew it wasn’t. If he stopped fucking up by letting his anger get the best of him...he could achieve more. He knows he’s capable of that…

He grits his teeth, letting his chin drop a fraction.

‘The training...it helps my self control. If you let me continue...I can improve. I can learn to hold myself back when I need to.’

It’s not the answer the warden is looking for and he straightens up.

‘I see. You’ll be escorted back to your cell, Vegeta. The doctor has told me it would be best for you to remain on rest for a while longer, so you will be confined to your cell for the next week. I suggest you find some way to pass your time.’

It’s clear the conversation is over, and a moment later, the guards are back. He limps between them on his way to the cell, and by the time he reaches it his entire body is aching with effort. Stumbling into the cell, he all but collapses onto his bed, burying himself under the covers and blocking out the rest of the world.

–

By the time the week spent confined to his cell has passed, Vegeta is out of his mind with boredom. And yet when his cell door is unlocked, he doesn’t break for it like he expects. Instead, he sits on his bunk, looking at the bars, and he realises he’s waiting for Frieza’s retribution. When that thought occurs, he pushes himself up, limping for the showers. He wouldn’t let himself be cowed by anyone. Not even Frieza.

The reaction of the other prisoners is curious. There are of course, those who taunt him for his condition, and more than once he has his injured leg knocked from beneath him. Others regarding him with a mixture of admiration for taking out Dodoria, others still are frightened of him. Oddest of all is his own reaction to all of them.

He doesn’t care.

Where once he had strived to be known, to be feared amongst the ranks, he finds himself simply too tired, too bored with the whole thing to bother about it. His own reaction, in fact, is surprise to find that Frieza has taken to ignoring him.

That was fine by him too. He was sure it was a ruse, that he was attempting to lull him into a false sense of security. But again, he doesn’t care. Let it come. He had blown any chance of getting out of here anyway. Why did it matter anymore?

He waits for the summons to come, the announcement that his sentence is being extended. And it does, a meeting with the warden again that is as terse as he expects, another two years added on.

What he doesn’t anticipate is the sudden turn on the walk back to his cell, that is distinctly not the correct way, and he frowns, suspicious, caught between two guards. Limping, he rounds a corner, and the route suddenly becomes clear and he opens his mouth to question it, only to receive a sharp jab to the ribs.

‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, prince. It’s more than you deserve. Daddy’s been looking out for you.’

The door to the small room where his training sessions are held is already open, and he catches a flash of orange as they approach. Stepping into the room, he’s met immediately with Goku’s full attention the familiar stupid grin that fades slightly at the sight of him.

He recovers after barely a second.

‘Hey Vegeta, been a while, huh?’ 

A feeling that Vegeta hadn’t thought he was capable of experiencing crowds his chest and he grunts a greeting to cover it, feeling his heart beating faster. He was….excited, and yet somehow nervous over the situation, but beyond both he finds he’s pleased to see the other man again. Not that he’d ever tell him that, of course.

The guards unlock the cuffs at his wrists, freeing him again and he rolls his shoulders, energy flowing through him at the thought.

‘You’ve got an hour. One. We’ll be watching the cameras, don’t get any ideas.’

He doesn’t bother to answer, turning his attention to the larger man. As the door closes, the smile drops from his face, replaced with concern.

‘You ok? They said I couldn’t come for a while, something about an ‘incident’…’

‘I’m fine. Lost my cool with another prisoner a few weeks back.’

‘You hurt him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Badly?’

‘Yes.’

Goku pauses, tilting his head, something inscrutable crossing his face.

‘Do you regret it?’

‘No.’

‘...Do you think you’d do it again?

‘….No.’

‘Why not?’

‘They’re not worth it. I could kill them all, if I wanted to. I’d have no problem with it. But I...don’t have the inclination to.’

‘Huh.’

He looks him over again, that closed expression fading back into concern.

‘They did a number on you too, huh?’

‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

‘You gonna be ok to spar?’

That gives him pause, because he knows he’s not. His knee is still splinted, still throbs when he puts his weight on it, his ribs still ache, and though the swelling on his face and body has gone, the yellow discolouration of fading bruises is still present.

‘Of course.’

‘..A...Alright...’ Goku’s tone is dubious at best, but Vegeta isn’t about to turn down this chance, not when he’d been so close to losing it.

He falls back into a defensive posture, watching as Goku does the same, circling slowly, testing his range and Vegeta ducks in when he has the chance, knocking an arm aside to drive a punch into his chest. Its jars his hand, shockwaves running up his arm, and he grits his teeth against it, disappointed by how quickly he’s encountering difficulty. But at least he manages to take Goku by surprise, and the man grins at him, encouraging and he finds the determination to last for a few more blows, ducking and dodging, blocking, until his knee gives way without warning.

Elbows scrape against the concrete floor, he growls, pushing himself up to find Goku sitting down beside him, offering him a bottle of water. He takes it wordlessly, sipping the cool liquid, staring at the opposite wall. He can’t comprehend this man sitting beside him, why he would want to be sat next to him, knowing that a few weeks ago he’d beaten a man into unconsciousness.

‘They asked if I would want to run more sessions with you, you know?’

‘...huh?’

Goku chuckles at his less than eloquent response.

‘The warden. When he called to say I could come back in, he said they’d be open to me coming in twice a week. Something about wanting to see you make progress.’

‘….huh.’

‘So do you want to?’

He shrugs, ignoring the eagerness in his chest. 

‘It will give me something to do, I suppose.’

‘Cool. You ready to give it a go again?’

Adjusting the splint on his leg, Vegeta grunts, heaving himself onto his feet.

‘Let’s go, Kakarot.’


	5. Chapter 5

‘So, is this getting written down or something?’

Sat in a hard plastic chair that’s uncomfortably small for the breadth of his frame, Goku peers over at the prison psychologist, watching the man scrawl onto a pad of paper.

‘Your observations of Vegeta’s most recent behaviours and temperament will be recorded here, yes, Mr. Son.’

‘Why though?’

‘You are aware that the programme was developed to give our more violent inmates an outlet to channel their aggression?’

‘Well...yeah...’

‘As the programme has been running for six months now, it’s time for a formal evaluation of the inmates progress. Those that have stuck with it, at least.’

‘Now, given Vegeta’s...outburst a few months back...’

‘He was provoked.’ Goku argues, butting in. He could already tell from that statement where this was going. 

‘Yes, I was informed of the situation. You seem eager to ensure that is recorded.’

‘Well...I…’

‘Do you feel that the situation wasn’t reflective of Vegeta’s state of mind?’

‘Uh…’

The psychologist pauses, waiting for him to continue. He leans back, rubbing at his neck.

‘I...I mean he’s got a temper, sure. But it’s like, I dunno, I don’t feel threatened by him. He says a lot of mean things, but I don’t think he’d follow through on most of them.’

‘Would you say that he’s...posturing, perhaps?’

‘Maybe? It’s like...like he feels he has to say mean stuff because people think that’s what he’s like, ‘cos of his crimes and everything.’

‘I see. Let me ask you, Mr. Son. You have children, yes?’

‘Yup, two boys. You wanna see?’ He fishes in his pocket, bringing out his phone and thumbing through until he finds a picture of his sons together.

The psychologist smiles, looking at the picture.

‘They take after you.’

‘Goten yeah, he’s my little warrior. Gohan’s more like Chi-Chi, his mom. He’s super smart, way smarter than me, I reckon he’ll go to college and everything.’

‘You seem very proud.’

‘Oh yeah, my boys are great. Best thing I’ve ever done with my life was having them.’

He finally tucks the phone back into his pocket, leaning back as the doctor leans back in his chair.

‘Bearing that in mind, Mr. Son...how would you feel if you knew someone like Vegeta was out on the streets again? If someone with his past could come into contact with them?’

‘Are you asking about Vegeta specifically, or someone else?’

‘This is about him, of course, so…’

‘I mean…I’m not saying he’ll never hurt anyone ever again. But he deserves a chance, I think.’

‘Answer the question honestly, Mr Son. Would you trust him around your children?’

He swallows thickly. Since Vegeta’s ‘incident’, and the subsequent increased training sessions, the man seemed calmer. But there was still that attitude he wore like armour, still that closed off aspect that meant he couldn’t trust him fully. Not yet. As much as he would like to.

Sighing, he meets the other man’s gaze.

‘No. At least, not alone. If I was there to make sure they were safe. But generally...no.’

‘And that’s what I have to consider here, Mr. Son. If we ever consider releasing Vegeta, we have to be certain that he is no threat. And we’re not there, are we?’

‘No.’

‘Thank you for being honest. I agree with your assessment there. I do find it interesting though...you seem saddened by the idea that he won’t be released. Why?’

‘I dunno I just...look, I know he killed people, I know he’s hurt a lot of people, and I know that when I go in that room with him, I’m lucky enough that I can defend myself if he did decide to turn against me. I know most people don’t have that...but...’

‘...but?’

‘When we fight, there’s that anger there. But between fights...when we stop for a break, he’s grumpy, sure and he’s mean, but I don’t feel like he would ever be a threat to me. If I didn’t know his past...I wouldn’t doubt him.’

The psychologist nods, making a few notes on the pad in front of him.

‘I’m going to be honest with you, Mr. Son. We feel that the programme has made a positive impact. Despite the set back a few months ago, even the guards have reported that they feel less hostility coming from him, and there have been a decrease in altercations involving him and his friends.. It’s definitely a good sign. And of course, we aim to rehabilitate here. We would hope that, perhaps one day, Vegeta would be able to at least partly reintegrate with society.’

‘That’s great.’

‘However. That incident did add further time onto his sentence, and there is another...bad behaviour we have to consider.’

‘Oh?’

‘Approximately four years ago, Vegeta managed to escape. We’re still not entirely sure how. He never told us, we never worked it out, and for some reason, he’s never attempted it again. Or he has, and it hasn’t worked.’

‘He escaped?!’

The doctor nods.

‘Enough to make it to the city for a night. There were no reports of any violence on the night, not that could have involved him anyway. The police found him in a park the next morning. He did injure a couple of officers n his capture, but not seriously. We have no idea what he got up to for the night.’

‘So that means he’ll have to stay longer?’

‘Yes. Although, if he continues to behave, we may be able to reduce the sentence. The problem is...these rewards, they’re not tangible. They’re so far off for many of the inmates that they may as well not exist. Which is why we’re considering more immediate rewards.’

‘I mean that’s great but...what does it have to do with me?’

‘Let me get there, Mr. Son. I have made an arrangement with the warden. Vegeta will have visiting rights re-instated. We feel that getting back in touch with people who are from the ‘outside world’ might help re-acclimatise him civilian life. And I believe he’s not been in touch with his family for many years.’

‘That’s good! He won’t even tell me about his family but...it would be so good for him.’

‘I’m glad you agree. We do also have a further proposal.’

‘Oh?’

‘How would you feel about seeing Vegeta as a visitor? A friend, if you will, rather than an instructor.

‘I...is that even allowed?’

‘Not usually, but I’m curious to see whether it’s the structure of the training that’s had such an effect on him. Or whether it’s you. Or a combination. Most people wouldn’t give an inmate with Vegeta’s history the time of day, and yet you have not only offered to help him in a professional context, but you seem to offer some level of companionship to him. That’s unusual, but I think that attitude, to know that someone is willing to give him a chance, is perhaps as valuable as learning to channel his anger.’

‘Oh...cool. Well, sure, I guess,’ he pauses rubbing the back of his neck, implications sinking in.

‘Excellent. Providing he continues his run of good behaviour, we may also start to consider small steps towards say, supervised days out of the prison.’

‘Wow. That’s a big step.’

‘It is, and still a way off. And very, very conditional. But as I say. We shall see.’

‘So...when can I start visiting him?’

‘We’d like to see if we can get him reintroduced to his family first. Continue with the training for now, and we will be able to let you know the details in time. Anyway, I believe I’ve taken enough of your time. You were heading home weren’t you?’

‘Oh yeah, gotta go pick the boys up. Thanks doc.’

‘Thank you Mr. Son.’

Grabbing his backpack from the floor next to his chair, Goku swings it over a shoulder as he stands. Guards meet him at the door, escorting him to the prison entrance, giving him the usual pat down before he leaves. 

Free of the grey concrete walls he smiles to himself, taking a deep breath before he flings his bag into the back of the car, clambering in and starting the drive back to the city. His mind wanders on the way, still lingering on the conversation he’d just had. He wondered what Vegeta’s reaction would be to have those visits reinstated. He’d still barely mentioned his family in the six months or so that Goku had known him, although he’d at least managed to get the fact that he had a father and a younger brother out of the smaller man. He never called them by name. He never mentioned his mother. The one time Goku had asked about her Vegeta had reacted so poorly that even he had quickly come to the decision not to mention it again. All he had managed to glean was that she wasn’t in his life any more. It sounded like she hadn’t been for a long time.

That at least, he could relate to. Goku didn’t remember much of his mother, he was so young when she and his father had been killed, but he knew the acute feeling of loss whenever he thought of her. It was one of the reasons he’d been so keen to ensure his own children had a good relationship with Chi-Chi, regardless of what happened between himself and her.

Pulling up at a set of traffic lights, he taps his fingers against the wheel, barely noticing when the light flashes to green until a sharp honk behind him prompts him to move. Too caught up his thoughts, but despite himself he drifts back to them, idly wondering what Vegeta’s father and brother were like, if they would recognise their incarcerated loved one. Would they even go to see him? Would he be upset if they didn’t, or was he as disinterested in the idea that he seemed to want everyone to believe?

And the idea of being let out of the prison, even supervised, even if only for a few hours – Goku could only imagine, given the man had escaped a few years ago, that the temptation of that might be enough to set him on the straight and narrow. Or at least, partially. 

And what then? If he achieved all that, if he never threatened anyone again...would he be released eventually? Would he manage to merge back into society? What would he do, where would he live? The idea of Vegeta, with his own place, working 9 to 5 like everyone else...it was odd. But somehow pleasant. And then...would he take on every aspect of a normal life. Would he date? Wake up in the morning to freshly brewed coffee, kiss his wife on the cheek and see his children off to school…

Something about the image feels wrong in Goku’s mind. Not the concept of a normal life, but the idea of the man domesticated, like he can’t quite imagine it as fully as he could everything else. But perhaps it was simply that Vegeta was such a loner that it didn’t fit. He had never considered the other man in those terms before. Why would he? He never mentioned relationships, didn’t have the chance to have experience that sort of thing within the prison.

He assumed anyway...save for 5 minutes alone in the shower and…

Heat rises into Goku’s cheeks, searing, and he wonders why his mind has drifted that way. He’s saved from thinking about it too deeply, for him at least, by the sight of the Capsule Corp. compound looming before him.

The security guards wave him in and he pops the car in its usual space, heading in to the main building. The receptionist quickly directs him to the balcony around the back of the building. He finds her there with all four children, Gohan entertaining himself with some handheld game console whilst Goten and Trunks play fight. Bra is playing with the family cat, hugging the small black bundle of fur a little too tightly.

‘Hey guys!’

Immediately the cat is released, toys and fights are put aside and he’s met with a gaggle of his favourite small people. He scoops Bra into his arms, twirling the little girl briefly before letting her cuddle into his neck. Without her own father, Goku seemed to be the closest thing she had to one, and he was more than happy to fulfil that role. Likelihood was he wouldn’t have anymore children, so she would be he daughter he never got to have.

Surrogate daughter cradled in one arm, he reaches out to each of the boys, pulling them into him in turn for a hug, chuckling when Trunks makes out that he doesn’t like it, only to have the boy hug him tighter when he tries to release him.

‘Goku! Finally, I was wondering where you were! You were due back hours ago, what happened?’

Bulma’s greeting is accompanied by fists on her hips, her expression clearly displeased. He swallows.

‘Sorry Bulma. Got caught up at the prison, I...’

‘I had to cancel my eyebrow appointment, Goku!’

‘...Your what?’

‘My eyebrows….shaped. Do you have no idea about women?’

‘Uh...well...Chi-Chi...’

‘Don’t answer that, Goku, it was rhetorical.’

‘Right...’

The woman huffs, making her way back to the small table set up under a parasol and sipping at a glass of ice tea.

‘So why were you stuck at the prison?’

‘Oh, the psychologist wanted to talk to me about my inmate.’

‘What, the nut job?’

‘He’s not a nut job he’s just...’

‘Kids, go play,’ Bulma interrupts, ‘Or...go tell Grandma that Goku’s here and we need snacks.’

A small stampede later and the kids are gone. Goku settles himself into a seat, plucking a drink from a nearby cooler.

‘He’s a murderer, Goku. I don’t know why you’re still carrying on with the whole thing. Let him rot where he belongs.’

‘Well that’s kinda what they wanted to talk about. They wanted to know what I thought about him, if he’s changed since we started training.’

‘Why?’

‘Doctor thinks he’s calmer,’ Goku shrugs, taking a drink, ‘He’s getting into less fights, not bothering the other inmates and stuff. They reckon he’s getting...you know...better.’

‘So he punches people less, so what? I doesn’t change what he did.’

‘No...but if he’s not a threat anymore...’

‘He’s always going to be a threat, Goku, why are you defending him?’

‘I just… I think there’s something there, y’know? Something different. Like maybe he’s not this monster that everyone makes him out to be.’

‘Right.’ Bulma snorts, taking a long sip of her tea, ‘So what difference does it makes anyway?’

‘Well, they’re thinking of letting him have visitors again, on account of his good behaviour. Let his family in and stuff.’

‘If they want to see him.’

‘...yeah. Well the doc asked if I’d go and see him. As a visitor, not just to train him.’

‘Why?!’

‘...He thinks that I’m good for him. Cos I don’t judge and stuff, so it’s helping him to get better. And the betterer he gets, the less likely he is to hurt people. And if he’s not going to hurt people, he’s safe, so maybe one day they let him out.’

Bulma’s expression, one of skepticism, suddenly shifts to one of outright fury.

‘They can’t do that! Are they insane?! He could kill again.’

‘Whoa, whoa. I said maybe. And they’d keep an eye on him. It might not even happen. It’s just a maybe.’

‘Look Goku, maybe you don’t realise this, but ‘maybe’ isn’t ‘no chance’. You can’t trust someone like that to be around people. C’mon Goku, what if he was allowed out and he hurt one of the kids?’

‘You sound like the doctor.’ Goku mumbles, drawing his knees to his chest.

‘There’s enough shit bags in the world that aren’t convicted murders, and it’s hard enough to protect our families from them as it is.’

It seems an odd statement, coming from a mulitbillionaire who was currently sat in her own heavily guarded compound. If Bulma wanted to, she could afford to have bodyguards watching her constantly. So she clearly couldn’t be that bothered.

‘What kinda shit bags, Bulma? You never meet anyone who isn’t checked out first anyway.’

‘I met you, didn’t I?’ she sticks her tongue out at him before sinking back into her seat. Goku can only laugh at her.

‘I mean like... the kid’s father. He’s one of those shit bags. And he’s not a murderer. Just some asshole who didn’t think to put a condom on. If I’d checked before hand...’

‘You wouldn’t have Bra and Trunks. They’re worth dealing with a shit bag, right?’

‘Yeah they are,’ she sighs, ‘but it would have been nice to have a father for them. Yamcha’s so keen for them to know that he’s not their daddy...’

Goku clears his throat pointedly, a little hurt by the comment.

‘Oh you know what I mean. Just that stability, you know. A nice little family. A father who wants his children, who wants a wife. Fuck, a guy who would tell me his name would be a good start.’

‘You...don’t know his name? The kid’s dad?’

‘I was very drunk, Goku.’

‘...Bulma...’

‘Don’t you slut shame me, Goku! Men sleep with women they don’t know all the time and they don’t get any come back from it. And yet just because I got pregnant…

‘Ok, ok. Got it.’

‘I know how stupid it was. I knew when I did, I knew when I found out I was pregnant, I knew when I decided to keep them and I still know now. But I was drunk, and he was...cute, and hot, and….mysterious you know? I was sat there in the bar with all these guys pawing at me and I just caught his eye across the room. He didn’t do or say anything, just looked at me while he drank…’

Bright blue eyes sweep across to meet Goku’s own, and he can see the decision in her eyes, weighing up whether or not to continue. He holds his tongue, waiting for her to speak. It was the most she had ever said on the subject and he couldn’t deny that he was curious to hear what happened.

‘And then he finished his drink, stood up, looked at me, then the door and then left. Bastard didn’t even buy me a drink but...the way he looked at me, like he knew I deserved better than the creeps around me and he was it. So I went after him. He was sat on this shitty car, smoking, trying to look cool. He should’ve looked like an idiot, but he was so hot just...waiting for me, those dark eyes watching me, like he needed me but was too proud to say it.’

‘...Bulma...’ Goku scrubs his hands against his face now, unsure if he wanted to hear the rest of this now. It was getting more personal than he’d have thought Bulma would be.

‘He was so hot you know. It’s probably because I was drunk. I bet he’s pretty average really, but he was all tanned and had this stupid hair, all thick and black and spiky...’

‘Spiky black hair, huh?’ Goku grins, Bulma clearly had a type.

‘Oh shut up. He had it styled, not all messy like yours, and this really pronounced widow’s peak.’ 

She makes the gesture over her own forehead, drawing out the imaginary hair line. Inside Goku’s head, something whirrs to life, a car sputtering as its engine tries to turn over, and when it does his heart stutters in his chest…

‘….You remembering this right? You said you were really drunk.’

‘Oh I remember all right. I remember because I remember thinking how much he wasn’t my usual type.’

‘….sure...’

‘He was barely taller than me! Good body though. I mean, really good. I stumbled into him, maybe on purpose, and got my hands on him and just… he’d give you a run for your money, y’know?’

‘...is...is that so?’

‘God yes. He dragged me into alley after that, said he couldn’t wait. I thought we were gonna get murdered down there, but he said something about no one being brave enough to mess with him. We didn’t really talk much after that.’

‘...o….oh….’

‘We...you know. A couple of times. Then he called a cab, let me take it. I asked for his name, his number, but he wouldn’t. I called him a prick and he just laughed at me. Can you believe that? Anyway. That was it. Never heard from him or saw him again.’

‘Bulma...’

Sat staring at one of his oldest friends, Goku mulls over the information he’s been fed. He was almost certain that Bulma was describing Vegeta, and the age of the twins matched up with what he knew from Vegeta’s previous escape.

‘If he came back one day, would you introduce the kids to him?’

‘I mean he’s a dick, right? Why should I?’

‘You don’t think they need to know who he is if it was possible?’

‘They’re fine without him.’ She sighs, flicking a stray strand of hair aside, ‘But...maybe. Depends. I’d need to know him first.’

‘What if he turned out to be a criminal?’

‘...Are you still on that? The father of my children is not a psycho, he was just some lonely guy I met at a bar and took a fancy to me. And who can blame him right?’

She winks and Goku states back blankly.

‘Why are you suddenly so interested in him anyway?’

‘I wasn’t. You brought him up.’

‘I did not!’

‘You did. You were talking about shit bags and you said the twin’s daddy was one. But now that you mention him...’

‘What now? Can’t we just move on?’

‘Bulma...I think...’

‘That’s rich.’

‘Bulma! I’m serious. I think...I think they guy you described, the kid’s dad….I think he might be the guy I’m training.’

Bulma folds her arms over her chest, fixing him with the most withering look he’d ever encountered from her.

‘Not funny, Goku.’

‘I’m not joking, Bulma! How you described him...there can’t be many people who match that description and the times match up.’

‘What….what times?’

He realises with a start that he hadn’t explained about the escape caught up in his own thoughts. To Bulma it must seem ridiculous, but if she realised…

‘The twins are, what, three?’

‘Three and a half.’

‘Well….Vegeta escaped from the prison just over four years ago. The guards don’t know what he got up to, but there weren’t any reports of violence or anything. He was out for...just over half a day, I think they said. An evening and into the next morning...’

‘...It can’t be Goku, it’s too much of a coincidence.’ Her voice lacks it’s usual certainty, her gaze refusing to land on him.

‘He’s got a really rough voice, right? With a bit of an odd accent?’

She shakes her head vehemently now.

‘No. It’s not him Goku. Your murderer is not my children’s father. End of.’

He falls silent as she looks away, sipping distractedly on her tea, eyebrows furrowed.

Taking his own drink her takes a couple of swigs before he pulls his phone out of his pocket, pulling up a news article that had mentioned that escape shortly after it had happened. The quick responses of the prison service meant that Vegeta had been captured even before the news had gotten out, resulting in only mild panic at the time. It had called into question the prison’s security measures, but his swift return to prison meant most people had remained unaffected.

The local paper had covered the incident in some detail, going into the details of Vegeta’s initial crime, complete with mugshots of the man when he had first been incarcerated and when he’d been reprocessed back in. The younger shot, a softer faced version of the man he knew now, stared at him with dead eyes and he squirms, realising how soon that must have been taken after he was caught and convicted. The more recent shot was far more nonchalant.

He enlarges the image before putting his phone face up on the table, sliding it over for Bulma to look at.

Bright blue eyes fall on his, her mouth curving unpleasantly, but she takes the phone nevertheless. Immediately, her eyes widen, and he feels his heart twist in his chest for her as her mouth drops open.

‘No...it...it can’t…he…Oh god...’

‘I’m sorry Bulma...but at least...’

‘Why did you show me this?!’ she demands, slamming the phone face down into the table so hard he wonders if the screen has cracked.

‘I...I guess I thought you should know.’

‘Why? How was knowing that ever going to help anything? Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut?!’

‘Bulma...’ he reaches for her, softly, as she covers her mouth with a hand, red nails painfully bright against her pale skin, eyes screwing shut.

‘It’s ok, Bulma. It doesn’t mean anything anyway but...I just...you wouldn’t really want me to keep that secret from you, would you?’

Her hand drops away from her mouth.

‘No, I guess not. It’s not like he can influence them where he is anyway. And they’re still my kids. Nothing changes that.’

‘Right?’

‘But you can’t tell anyone, Goku. Not yet, anyway. If people learn about it and want it to come from me.’

‘Sure, I promise. But...’

‘But. What?’

‘...Can I tell him?’

‘Why?’

‘I think it’d help him, to know he’s got kids. That changes everything, y’know?’

‘...Just...let me think about it Goku. This is a lot to take in.’

He nods.

‘I guess.’ 

Leaning in, he pulls the woman’s small frame against him, offering what comfort he could. He wants to say something else, but he’s not sure what. He’s saved from having to think too hard by the sounds of the kids returning, a veritable stampede and he pulls away from her as Goten launches himself into his arms.

‘Dad! Grandma Briefs said we can stay for dinner if we want! Can we?’

‘I think your mother wants you home, Goten. Maybe next time, eh?’

‘Aw but I wanna play with Trunks!’

‘You can come over tomorrow after playschool, if you want Goten. How does that sound?’ Bulma offers.

‘Yay!’

‘Besides. I think your dad and I are going to need to have a chat.’

Goku grins sheepishly. He could only imagine how that chat was going to go.


	6. Chapter 6

Over six months into the martial arts programme, Vegeta finds he’s come to expect the rhythm and pattern of his and Goku’s meetings.

The meet, they greet, they spar. Then they break, talk while they take a breather and a drink, then they spar and split.

Goku offers him tales from the outside world, talks of his family and his friends, some of the tournaments he had taken part in or was planning to. Vegeta, for the most part, sat in silence, either listening to Goku, or sometimes not, nodding along to the other man. He rarely asked any questions. He didn’t need to. Goku talked enough to give him all the information he could ever need. Naive, really, but then, that was Goku.

Today should be no different, and to begin with, it’s not.

Goku greets him with the familiar easy grin, and they fall into their spar, the larger man offering tips on technique, adjusting his stance here and there. They stop for their break after an hour, Vegeta taking up his usual spot against the wall, taking a long pull from a sports-top bottle of water, watching the larger man in his own usual spot a few feet away.

And that’s where tradition ends. 

Capping the top of his water, he places the bottle to the side, twisting his fingers together and watching the digits entwine.

‘I saw my father yesterday.’

Goku’s eyes flash to him, eyebrows lifting in surprise, bottle paused halfway to his lips. For the first time, the martial artist doesn’t say anything.

‘The psychologist told me they were going to reinstate my visitations. I didn’t think they’d come.’

‘They?’

‘My father and my brother.’

‘Really? That great Vegeta! How were they? Was it good to see them again.’

‘They were...’ he pauses, thinking, remembering waiting, hands folded on the counter as around them everyone else sat with their loved ones. They had been late. Late enough that he’d become convinced they weren’t coming and he had stood to leave, only for the move to allow him to catch sight of a shock of red hair.

He’d slumped back into his chair, wincing at the scrape of metal on the tiled floor, and waited, stunned, as his father had come into view, his face somehow both familiar and strange to him. His younger brother, almost unrecognisable from his memories alone.

‘...they were older.’

‘Older?’ Goku asks, then laughs softly, ‘Yeah, I guess they would be. Is your brother older or younger than you?’

‘Younger. 6 years.’

‘So he must’ve been pretty young when you first came here?’

‘Barely a teenager.’

‘Were they pleased to see you?’

He shrugs.

‘My father is not an expressive man. Tarble was….nervous.’

‘Huh. Well they wouldn’t have come to visit if they didn’t want to see you, so they must have been.’

‘You can believe that if you wish.’

Reaching for the bottle of water, Vegeta takes a long drink again, trying to ignore Goku’s mindless grinning.

‘Come on. We should carry on. I haven’t punched anyone other than you recently and your face is looking like an ideal target.’

‘Hang on there. We’ve only stopped for five minutes. I’m still getting my breath back.’

It’s a blatant lie. Goku is rarely out of breath, and today is no exception.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Really. Can’t you tell?’

He grunts. They both know that it’s simply a way to get him to talk more on Goku’s part and for reasons he can’t fathom, he indulges him.

‘Fine. Wouldn’t want to tax you too much, would we?’

‘You’re the best, Geets.’

‘Geets?!’ 

Goku grins back, as if butter wouldn’t melt.

‘Fine. Kakarot.’

The larger man let’s out a soft whine at the use of his birth name and Vegeta smiles back at him smugly.

‘Anyway...’ Goku leans back against the concrete wall, fingers interlaced behind his head. ‘What did you guys talk about?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Oh. Sure, I guess it’s not.’

‘You’re so fucking nosy.’

‘Nah. Not really. This is what people do, Vegeta. They talk about things that go on in their lives. Maybe you’ve forgotten what it’s like to do that.’

The comment isn’t meant to be offensive, it isn’t meant to do anything, and Vegeta knows that. It’s the reason he chooses to simply fold his arms defensively over his chest and turn his gaze to the opposite wall, rather than leaving it on Goku.

‘I guess the other inmates don’t really chat?’

‘They do. I don’t see the use of engaging their prattle most of the time. They rarely say anything of interest. Even the guards’ conversations are more interesting than theirs. Though I suppose they do have the benefit of leaving the prison.’

‘Do you chat to the guards then?’

‘No. I just overhear them when I care to listen.’

‘Oh, I guess that makes sense. They’re not your friends.’

‘I have no ‘friends’. I have cohorts that I tolerate, and ones that I don’t. People are...irritating.’

‘Is that why you kill them?’

He should have expected the question at some point, but still Vegeta feel his brows raise and his heart still in his chest for a moment.

‘Excuse me?’

‘The guy you beat up, when they paused the training session. Is that why you tried to hurt him?’

‘He goaded me. He deserved it. But I have no particular desire at this point to kill again. I merely...want to be left alone.’

That prompts a look from Goku that he doesn’t expect, a mixture of surprise and….sympathy?

He growls lowly at the other man. 

‘Easy.’ Goku murmurs, his tone placating.

‘I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anything from anyone. You understand? I am my own man, prisoner or not.’

‘Hey… I know that. I wasn’t trying to… look, I’ll be honest with you, yeah?’

‘You’d fucking better.’

Goku nods, his arms lowering from behind his head to cross over his chest.

‘The guards mentioned that you’ve not been getting into as many fights recently, even when you’re being goaded, they say you’ve started to turn the other cheek. I just want to understand why.’

Honesty is a rare thing in Vegeta’s life. He understands that, and he understands the value of someone telling him the truth plainly. And still he finds that his answer for Goku catches in his chest. He can’t answer him, even if he wanted to. It seems stupid to say the words out loud, to give voice to his vague hope that he might one day be free to live his life as he pleased. If it meant holding back on laying waste to a few inmates too stupid to know not to try his temper, then so be it. He could control himself. He wasn’t an animal. He had that, at least.

When an answer doesn’t come, Goku just nods at him, as if understanding and takes a long drink from his bottle, giving him some sense of privacy whilst busying himself with the task. Vegeta finds that he can appreciate that, and something in his chest warms a little at the consideration. 

A wipe of a broad arm over lips and Goku caps the bottle, putting it back down beside him.

‘OK. So just one more question, Vegeta, and then we’ll spar, yeah?’

‘Finally,’ he huffs, relieved, ‘So be it. If you must continue with this. Don’t expect an answer though.’

Goku smiles mildly, pinning him with a soft gaze that instantly makes him feel uncomfortable.

‘What would you do if you were allowed out of here? For a day, at least. What’s the first thing that comes to mind?’

He can’t help the laugh that bubbles from his chest, though it comes out as a sharp bark.

‘Well that’s easy.’

‘Is it?’

‘Do you know how long it’s been since…?’ he cuts his own question off, not wanting to admit that much, before rephrasing it so something slightly less incriminating.

‘I’d find a woman. A willing one, I might add, before you think I’d sink to that low.’

‘That’s what you’d do with your freedom?! You’d try and get laid?’

‘Why not? It’s the main thing that I cannot do whilst constantly watched.’

Goku blinks, incredulous, before shaking his head, a wry smirk on his lips.

‘Well, I guess that figures, at least. With your track record.’

‘Excuse me?!’

He doesn’t understand quite what Goku is insinuating, only that it makes him uncomfortable and he narrows his gaze, glaring at the other man.

‘Uh...’ Goku pauses, laughing, his hand lifting to the back of his skull again. ‘I just uh...’

‘You’re implying that...what? That I sleep around? How could I when I have been in here for the entirety of my adult life?’

‘I didn’t mean… it was just a slip of the tongue, alright?’

Vegeta hauls to his feet, throwing himself at the other man to fist a hand in the front of his ridiculously orange outfit, twisting the offensive fabric in his grip.

‘ ‘Track record’ means you think you know something about me! Tell me what you mean!’

Goku’s broad hands lift, palms spread, placating.

‘Easy, Vegeta. Don’t do something you’ll regret.’

‘Don’t fucking make me then.’

Goku sighs. He doesn’t seem threatened, per say, merely reluctant, and he grips Vegeta’s fists with his own hand, guiding it away from his chest.

‘Alright. I know you escaped a few years back, right?’

‘… I did.’

‘Well…I kinda know what you got up to.’

‘That I found myself some company?’

Goku nods and Vegeta finally shoves away from him, calmed a little.

‘Is that all? Although I admit I’m curious as to how you know that detail.’

‘Ummm...well, the girl you slept with. You remember her?’

‘I do.’

‘What did she look like?’

He shrugs. He couldn’t recall every detail of the woman, but he had an overall impression.

‘Attractive. Blue hair. Good figure.’

‘Really big boobs?’

He grunts an affirmative, though if he was honest, he hadn’t got to know that aspect of the woman as well as he could’ve.

‘Yeah...she’s a friend of mine. Her name’s Bulma.’

He had no comeback to that. It was perhaps a little awkward to know that he had had a one night stand with one of his friends, but it wasn’t as though it mattered. Settling back against a wall, he finished the last of his water.

‘Right. And you know this because…?’

‘You came up in conversation. She didn’t realise who, or what, you were when you...y’know.’

‘This may shock you, but when I’m trying to pick up a partner, I don’t introduce myself as a convict. Especially when I’m an escaped one.’

He sniffs, crushing the bottle. 

‘So I had a one-night stand with one of your friends, what of it? She pissed or something and wants you to do something about it?’

‘No. Nothing like that.’

‘Then why bring it up?’

‘I didn’t. You did. I told you that I knew you slept with someone when you escaped.’

‘No, you insinuated something more. I’m getting impatient, Kakarot.’

‘Look, we’ve sat here long enough, we should get back to training, don’t you think?’

‘So answer my question. You were quick enough to delay me before when you had questions, you can do me the decency of answering mine.’

Goku sits, lips pressed tightly together as he plucks at the hem of his shirt, for once seeming to have to actually think it over.

‘You might prefer not to know.’

‘I might. But before I didn’t know there was something that I didn’t know. Now I’m acutely aware of it. Whatever it is...’

‘You didn’t um...’ Goku interrupts, clearing his throat, ‘...neither of you were thinking about what you were doing, I guess?’

‘Meaning?’

‘...You didn’t use any...protection.’

‘I didn’t...oh...’

Irritation replaces confusion, before clearing to clarity and he feels his mouth open a little as implications begin to set in.

‘...you’re saying, I, we...’ he lifts his gaze to Goku’s, finding sympathy in those eyes, an apologetic smile on the other man’s face.

Goku nods.

‘I have a...’

‘Two.’ Goku corrects.

‘Two?!’

‘Twins. Boy and a girl.’

He doesn’t know how to respond. He doesn’t know how he feels, how he supposed to feel. The knowledge was jarring, certainly, but beyond that...what did it mean for him?

‘You OK?’

He swallows.

‘Fine.’

‘...You wanna spar for a bit?’

‘Fuck yes.’

He pushes himself up and throws himself into the spar. All too soon, the bang at the door sounds to announce their time is up, and he swears it’s only been a few minutes. Perhaps it had, Goku had done an awful lot of talking. He should feel cheated by that, that he’s missed out on his exercise, but Goku will be back in a few days and at least then he might have processed the information enough to move past it.

‘Oh hey, Vegeta.’ Goku calls as cuffs snick into place about his wrists. ‘...Don’t sweat it, yeah?’

Don’t sweat it, he says, Vegeta thinks as he grunts at the other man and is guided from the room. Easy for him to say.


	7. Chapter 7

‘You did what?!’

Bulma’s shriek is accompanied a sharp strike across Goku’s cheek, hard enough to make him wince at the sting. He reels away from her, touching at the now heated flesh.

‘Ow, Bulma! I said I was sorry!’

‘You think that’s good enough, you dumb country boy!? I explicitly told you not to tell anyone, and you went and told the fucking creep who knocked me up in the first place?!’

‘I didn’t mean to, it just sort of happened. You know I’m terrible at keeping secrets.’

At that the blue woman sighs, hands balled into fists on her hips.

‘...Yeah...you are. And I should’ve made sure. But you promised me Goku, and now you’ve broken that promise. You’re going to have to make this up to me.’

‘I know, I will. I swear it.’

‘Good. So as soon as I have something for you, you do it, no questions, no ifs, no buts, understand?’

‘Sure Bulma, anything you say.’

‘Good.’

She plops herself down into a chair, brushing her skirt off as she does so.

‘Um...so…now that he knows...’

Those piercingly blue eyes turn on him, narrowing sharply. But he’s never been one to back down from something he considers a good idea. Or even a bad one, come to think of it.

‘...the prison warden’s given him his visitation rights back for good behaviour. His dad and brother have been to see him, and I was thinking I might too so...’

‘Goku, if you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting…’

‘...It might be good for him to meet the twins, so I thought...’

‘You thought wrong, Goku! There’s no way in hell I’m letting you take my children to meet that psychopath. It’s bad enough the prison’s so close to the city, I’m not encouraging them to get any closer to it!’

‘But Bulma..’

‘I don’t care. I don’t care how good it is for him, or how you think he’s changing, Goku! It’s irresponsible to even let him know they exist, nevermind actually take them to him. And if you carry on asking, I won’t let you see them either!’

He holds his hands up, warding off an impending attack from the enraged woman.

‘Ok, Bulma, Ok, I understand. I won’t do it. I was only asking.’

‘Only asking?! Goku I know you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed but that’s irresponsible even for you. Let it go. Your family, your friends and their safety are more important than this stranger.’

‘I just want to help him.’

‘Well do it without dragging the rest of us into it.’

He knows she’s right, much as he doesn’t want her to be. There was still that modicum of distrust he felt about Vegeta, one that he couldn’t blame everyone else for having larger scale versions of. As long as he felt it still himself, he couldn’t ask any more of her.

‘Yeah. Sure.’ 

–

It’s back to sparring again on thursday afternoon, and Vegeta’s spirits seem oddly high, Goku thinks, as the man dodges his punches, effortless in the way he moves. It had struck him when he’d first started working with the smaller man that whatever he lacked in power and reach, he made up for in speed and flexibility. Though not strictly martial arts moves, he let the other man make use of his flips and spins, the way he could drop into a split at a moments notice and recover instantly. It wouldn’t pass in a tournament, but Goku was impressed enough by the moves that he didn’t bother to dissuade him. 

Goku grunts, catching fists as they fly at his face, fingertips pressing hard into the back of Vegeta’s hand. Dark eyes narrow, then a gleam that he knows all too well appears in those depths. He feels the moment Vegeta shifts his weight onto his back leg before the other lifts, foot striking into Goku’s side with a ferocity that makes his teeth rattle.

He breaks the contact with the other man’s hands, staggering away, and Vegeta only uses the opportunity to bear down on him. He finds himself pinned, arms pulled uncomfortably behind his back, Vegeta’s weight pressing down on him. For the first time, he wonders if he’s at risk here. If the camera pointing at them is actually manned. 

It’s Vegeta’s rough voice at his ear that makes him shudder.

‘Yield.’

‘Yeah...you got me, I yield.’

There’s a moment of hesitation. Trapped as he is, Goku can’t turn his head enough to see Vegeta’s face. A thrill of fear chases down his spine again, and then the warm weight of Vegeta shifts and lifts, the pressure on his own wrists releasing suddenly. He tries not to scramble upright, taking his time to check his wrists and right his clothing before sitting back against his usual spot against the wall trying to catch his breath. 

Vegeta has already moved on, water bottle in hand, an irritatingly smug smirk written across sharp features as he sinks into his own familiar spot.

‘...That was good, Vegeta. Your speed’s really something.’

Vegeta doesn’t answer. The way his lip curls up enough to show a flash of teeth is answer enough. He knows. He doesn’t need Goku’s praise.

He takes a sip of his drink.

‘You should keep your guard up. No telling what could happen now that I can best you.’

It’s not meant as a threat, that much Goku can tell. It’s an observation, at most, and moreover, Vegeta being...well, Vegeta, his ego thoroughly stroked. 

Goku shrugs.

‘Not really. I trust you. Wouldn’t be here with you alone if I didn’t.’

‘You’re an idiot. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I’ve been told.’

Vegeta snorts, looks away, fingers tapping against the plastic of the bottle in his hand. It’s an oddly nervous display for the man, usually still and silent, and Goku wonders what’s got his back up. He cocks his head as he regards the other man.

‘You alright, Vegeta?’

‘Fine.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Alright, idiot, answer me this. Now that I’ve beaten you...now what?’

Goku stares back at the smaller man for a moment, mulling over the question, before the connotations hit. He had beaten him once in a spar, and for that, the man assumed he was now a superior fighter. 

Chuckling, he tries to hold back the fuller laughter that he wants to break into, knowing it would damage the tenuous rapport they’ve developed over the past few months.

‘...Vegeta...you’ve made me yield once, in a spar situation. That doesn’t mean you’re going to win everytime. You have to continue to hone those skills that let you do that, so you can do it faster next time. Or with a different opponent.’

‘Oh I’ll beat you Kakarot, no doubt about that.’

‘We’ll see.’

Vegeta is on his feet again in a flash.

‘Let’s go then.’

‘Nah. I need a minute. Besides, there’s no rush. If you’re so confident, then there’s no need to jump straight back to it. We have time for a bit more of a break.’

‘Hmph. I always figured you martial artists types were more dedicated than this.’

‘Knowing when to rest is just as important as knowing when to train, Vegeta. You have to respect your body. Push too hard and it’s going to make you regret it.’

Vegeta snorts again, but the message seems to have gotten through and he sits down again, arms crossed over his chest, watching Goku from the corner of his eye. 

He doesn’t worry about Vegeta’s scrutiny. He had a habit of doing that, and he’d long ago learned not to bother about it.

‘So is this the part where you tell me what your brats have been up to? Or where you ask me how my day is going?’

‘If you like. You see your family again?’

An affirmative grunt.

‘Oh so they’re coming regularly now, huh? That’s pretty great. Are you getting used to seeing them again.’

No answer this time, and that he can understand. It must have been odd to go from not having seen his family for most of his adult life to suddenly seeing them once a week, especially for someone as taciturn as Vegeta. He wonders idly what they talk about, but he knows he won’t get an answer.

‘I guess it must be weird for you. But it’s gotta be weird for your dad too. I couldn’t imagine not seeing my boys for so long. I know it’s different, they’re still really young, but...if Chi-Chi tried to stop me seeing them or something...I don’t know what I would do.’

Vegeta’s head twists, his gaze locking onto some random point on the dull grey walls. 

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean…anything.’ he finishes lamely.

Silence stretches, and positioned as he is, he can’t read anything of Vegeta’s expression. He can all but feel the tension coming off him. He makes to suggest that they return to their training when Vegeta’s voice, almost unrecognisable in it’s quietness, breaks that train of thought.

‘Your children….they know of mine?’

‘...You mean do Goten and Gohan know Bra and Trunks? Of course. Goten and Trunks are practically like brothers anyway, it’s hard to get them apart. There’s always an argument when I’m trying to get my boys home but Goten doesn’t want to leave. I have to bribe him with ice-cream most of the time. Chi-Chi hates that.’

‘I see.’

‘Ah, I am sorry, Vegeta. I shouldn’t have brought it up.’

Broad shoulders shrug, Vegeta’s face turned away.

‘It makes no difference. I was merely curious.’

The way Vegeta’s knees have drawn up to his chest makes Goku think that it’s anything but ‘mere curiosity’ and he winces to himself. He’d not meant to cause the other man upset. He’d hoped that if anything, it would help the man to know about them.

He shifts to his feet, pacing quietly to the other man, kneeling down to settle a hand onto one of those broad shoulders.

The reaction is instant. Vegeta whirls, snatching Goku’s hand from his shoulder in a painful tight grip, and the larger man can’t help but gasp at the sudden pain lancing through his wrist. His other hand comes up of its own according, placating as he winces under the grasp.

‘Ah, Vegeta! What the hell?’

Vegeta doesn’t answer. Not verbally at least, but he manages to catch the other man’s gaze. Dark eyes are wide, though he seems to realise how startled he looks, eyes narrowing in warning as he snarls briefly. With a shove, he pushes Goku away by the wrist, forcing him back a few steps.

Grunting, Goku grabs at his sore wrist with his free hand, pulling his wristband away. There’s no sign of damage, and he wonders if his surprise at the action had been greater than the actual sensation of pain. He let’s the blue band snap back into place before looking over to the other man again.

Vegeta has shuffled away from him slightly, though his knees are still drawn up to his chest, dark eyes watching him carefully.

‘Sorry Vegeta, I didn’t mean to startle you. But man, kinda an over reaction don’t you think?’

‘Fuck off.’

It’s not exactly a surprise to hear from him, but the reaction still feels odd and Goku stares down at the other man. Perhaps he hadn’t come as far as he’d thought if such a little thing had prompted such a reaction and he swallows thickly. Bulma had been right, he couldn’t be trusted yet.

‘Hey….. what was that Vegeta?’

‘I don’t want your fucking monkeys paws anywhere near me you idiot!’

‘Alright, alright. I just...you seemed...like you could use...’

‘You don’t get to decide what I ‘could use’!’

He’s aware that Vegeta’s voice is dangerously close to attracting the guards and he settles on his knees a few feet away from the other man.

‘Look...I didn’t mean anything by it. I wanted you to feel better, and, I dunno, that’s how I make my friends feel better. Contact, you know? And I guess I figured since we touch all the time when we spar it wouldn’t be a big deal.’

Vegeta doesn’t answer, those unsettlingly dark eyes locked on him. After a moment, the man unfolds himself slightly, and he sneers, though it lacks any real venom.

‘Whatever, you dumb animal.’

It’s as close to an ‘it’s ok’ as Vegeta would ever give, and Goku inches closer again, gently punching a bicep.

‘Shall we finish our spar then?’

Vegeta agrees readily and they return to their training, whiling away the last half an hour before their time is up. The smaller man doesn’t manage to win this time and Goku laughs lightly as he fumes. Throwing caution to the wind, he edges closer to the other man, extending a hand slowly enough for the other man to catch sight of it before he lightly rests it on the others shoulder.

He doesn’t freak this time, though he allows the contact for only a moment before he shrugs the hand off. His fingers tingle where they made contact with the other’s skin.

‘So...beat me next time, huh?’

‘Fuck off Kakarot.’


	8. Chapter 8

The prison after lights out had an eerie air to it that Vegeta had never really managed to learn to completely ignore. Whilst most of the lights in the cells and halls flicked out into black, emergency backups still glinted from the dark, little flashes of red and green to announce they were still functional, still on standby. Occasionally, one of those lights would decide to turn on, casting an odd yellow light into the walkways that disturbed the residents.

But apart from those idiosyncrasies, the halls remained dark the sound of heavy breathing and snoring breaking the quiet, the occasional shout of an inmate shattering that muffled quiet in an odd rippling effect up and down the length of the corridors.

Lying in his bunk, hands beneath his head, Vegeta stares up at the ceiling, blinking into the darkness as coughs sound from down the way. Sleep evaded him tonight, as it had done for the last few, enough that he was starting to notice it’s effects on him during the day. He was tired, irritable, more so than usual, and Nappa had taken to prodding him to go to see the doctor over the dark circles beneath his eyes.

There’s nothing wrong with him. Just invasive thoughts and he growls quietly to himself, rolling over onto his side as if that would somehow banish them. 

‘Fucking Kakarot.’

He’s going insane. He knows it, lying alone in his cell, talking to himself, snarling at the man who’d wandered into his life so many months ago by sheer chance and now occupied most of his waking thoughts. His mind strays back to the events of the last few weeks, despite himself, the startling moment he realised that he had children, Kakarot’s normally easy going attitude flitting to sorrow for a time.

He hadn’t liked seeing the expression on him, the guilt in his eyes. It sat poorly on Vegeta’s mind, heavy, and he’d done his best to cover his own careening emotions for both of their sakes. And just when he thought he’d gotten past the initial shock, the man has to come back and bring it up again, twisting a knife he didn’t even know had been stabbed into him.

‘That bastard...’

His fist clenches in the thin blanket and Vegeta rolls onto his back again, staring up at the ceiling once more.

And then to have the audacity to try to touch him…

He swears his shoulder tingles where the other man’s hand had rested so briefly, and he reaches up to scratch at his skin, hoping that if he does it enough, it might get rid of the sensation.

He turns to his side, staring across the short space to the opposite wall of his cell. 

Touching was not something he did. Touching, if it didn’t involve violence, was for those who had the luxury to feel safe around others. In his life, even before prison, it hadn’t really been an option. His father was not a particularly warm person. Vegeta had hugged his younger brother once, in an attempt to comfort him, whilst only a child himself. His father’s retribution had been swift and harsh and had made sure he’d never done it again.

As for cell mates...well, if they weren’t being aggressive, there was usually only one other thing they were considering.

But Kakarot was neither his father, nor a fellow inmate. The gesture hadn’t been intended to upset or harm him, it had been the man’s first form of offering comfort when he thought it was needed. That’s all it was. A friendly gesture intended to soothe.

It was just unfortunate that even the touch Vegeta had allowed had been anything but soothing. Instead it had set his thoughts churning over and over, his skin burning at the memory. He feels heat rise to his cheeks, embarrassed and disgusted at himself. It had barely lasted a moment, just a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. It shouldn’t have been anything.

And yet here he lies, turning onto his back again, his thoughts drifting to the heat of Goku’s palm on his shoulder, the brief rasp of callouses against his skin. It was reasonably natural, he supposed, if he thought about it logically. He hadn’t had any...company, since the apparent conception of his children, and his own hand hardly counted in that regard. It made sense that his body would react to a non-hostile touch when it hadn’t encountered it in so long.

What didn’t make sense was that another male had caused it. In all his life, he’d never had any inclination towards men. His dislike for other people made the whole affair of intimacy something he held a distaste for in general, but in the moments he had needed such things, his thoughts had immediately been for women.

Perhaps he was simply so starved of contact that anything seemed appealing, even something he wouldn’t normally consider. For all his irritating personality, Goku was an attractive man, masculine and sturdy without being intimidating. He supposed that could be enough to have thrown his thoughts in such a direction, in addition to him being one of the few points of contact that treated him like an actual person. 

Or perhaps he was simply getting confused. Perhaps he was mistaking his respect for the man’s skills as something more. It was difficult to deny, try as he might, that he looked forward to their training sessions and that the warm greeting he was always met with wasn’t well received. Or that he got a thrill from the praise he received from the taller man, the grin that accompanied that praise. What he had once perceived as patronising and annoying had morphed to something he actively tried to achieve, pushing himself harder each time.

He growls to himself now, flipping over so his face is mushed into the pillow, blankets tangling around him as he flips. The irritating bastard just wouldn’t leave his thoughts, and he hated himself more for his inability to ignore it than he did the other man for prompting it in the first place. Because it was his own weakness that was making him get to this point, worked up beyond reason.

Hours drift by, and still his thoughts swirl erratically, from loathing himself, to loathing his trainer, to indifference, then anger, then rejection, the loathing over and over again. At some point in the night, he reasons, he must have managed to fall into a fitful sleep, for the sound of metal bars being struck makes him startle, sitting bolt upright in his bunk.

Hauling himself out of the bed, Vegeta finds himself running through the motions of his daily life with little thought, his mind too focused on its endless tirade. He eats without noticing the taste of the food, bathes without feeling the heat of the water, and then suddenly, he’s back in the little exercise room with the orange glare of the idiot’s clothing all but blinding him.

Goku clearly doesn’t expect his mood to be so sour. And why should he? Vegeta hadn’t given him any inclination as to why it should be, but he tells him with the angry rain of his fists, his anxiety pouring out the only way he knows how. 

The warning from his mentor comes more than once, trying to get him to calm, but they go unheeded. A kick from Vegeta and Goku stumbles back, catching the next blow and following it with a savage headbutt that makes Vegeta see stars. In a moment of blind rage, he charges, heart in his throat as he twists from beneath the other man, leg swinging in a wide arc to catch the larger man at the back of his knee, fist driving down into his jaw as he falls.

Goku hits the ground hard, the back of his head impacting with a crack that jars some sense into the smaller man and he watches, stunned, as his tutor lies near motionless, save for the rise and fall of his chest.

‘Shit...shit, shit…’

Dread crawling up his spine, Vegeta eases closer to the other man, settling down beside him, a hand easing behind his neck to guide his head up, fingers running over the back of his scalp to check for blood.

His hand comes away clean, the strands of Goku’s wild hair smooth and dry beneath his fingertips, and relief eases into his chest. He’s not hurt, not seriously, perhaps just a little stunned and he turns his attention to his face, watching as eyelids scrunch, Goku’s large hands rising to cup the back of his head.

‘Ow...’

Clasping his head, the larger man cracks an eye open, wincing as he pulls himself up to sitting. Vegeta hovers, feeling uncertain about what exactly he was supposed to do now, his hands restless until he notices the darkening bruise on the other man’s jaw. He’s beside him a moment later, hand gripping his chin so he can see it better, and he realises that he doesn’t know why he’s bothering. It wasn’t as though he could do anything about it.

The thought should have been enough to make him release the other, to put some space between them. Instead, he stays as he is, crouched next to him, fingers easing their grip slightly.

‘…Vegeta..? You ok there?’

It’s an utterly bizarre scenario, but then, it doesn’t overly surprise him considering that Goku is involved. Still, he can’t help the laugh that bubbles into his chest and he let’s out a short, sharp bark in amusement at the situation, the noise covering his unease as he realises how close he is, how he can feel that heat from the man’s body. His hand releases the other’s face and he retreats.

‘Fine.’

Groaning, Goku feels along his jaw to the swelling.

‘You clocked me good, huh?’

He grunts, looking away, uncomfortable and he knows which way the questions are going to turn next. He doesn’t have an answer for them, or at least, none he wanted to give breath to, anyway.

‘...You should go and get checked out. Make sure there’s no damage to your head.’ He keeps his gaze turned away, avoiding, discouraging further conversation between the two of them.

Goku takes a breath, as if to protest, and then…

‘Sure. That sounds like a good idea. You’re ok if we take a rain check, then?’

‘Obviously.’

‘K… I’ll see you next week then.’

Vegeta is at the door before the man can say another word, pounding on it to get the guard’s attention. They answer quickly, seemingly alarmed that they’ve cut the session short, and it’s a relief when they return the cuffs to his wrists and guide him back from the cell. Away from everything he doesn’t understand.


	9. Chapter 9

Vegeta is holding back. He can feel it, from the way his blows don’t land quite right, from the way his usually aggressive style is far more defensive today – staying out of arms reach, only darting in for split seconds to test Goku’s own defences before retreating again.

So he presses his own attacks, diving in where he’d usually stay cautious, directing the smaller man against walls so he can corner him. It doesn’t work, Vegeta manages to duck away every time, and the more he does it, the more irritated his opponent gets.

Good.

He doesn’t like this side of Vegeta – something almost cowed about his mannerisms today. Goku knows exactly why, of course. Despite some people’s opinions, he wasn’t as dense as he seemed to be. He knew Vegeta’s concern for the damage he’d nearly caused, and more pressingly, his unease that persisted around the notion of being touched in anything other than violence.

Or was it that he was concerned about the violence, in a weird, self-fulfilling prophecy sort of way. He wasn’t sure on that, what he was certain though, was that his attempt to comfort the other man had set off a chain reaction, and it needed to end before it ruined everything. The problem was that Vegeta didn’t seem to realise it needed to end, content to give into the fear and avoid anything he deemed unnecessary.

So he would have to push a little more, and he steps it up, cornering the other man again, bearing down on him at every opportunity, fighting as aggressively as he can get away with without harming him. He would wear him down, minute by minute, if he had to, until he had to face him. Of course, there was always the risk he could push too far, that Vegeta’s threadbare patience would disappear entirely and the inmate reveal the side of him that had landed him such a long sentence in the first place.

But he doubted it. 

He can see Vegeta’s confusion, his frustration as he blocks a blow he would normally have dodged, using the closeness it brings to grab the other’s arm, twisting hard and yanking him into easier reach. There’s a sputter from the prisoner as the twisting of his arm forces him down, doubled over with his arm behind his back. Goku wraps his free arms around the other’s neck, trapping him in a headlock. There’s an angry snarl, his trainee thrashing in an attempt to free himself, and he manages to balance himself enough to raise a foot, kicking at his knee. It’s enough to make Goku grunt and he tightens his hold.

‘Yield, Vegeta.’

The response he gets can’t even be counted as words and he pushes down, forcing the other man to his knees. He can feel the heavy pants wracking through the smaller body, his skin heated beneath his own. The man’s other hand, the one not trapped behind his back is pulling at his arm and he realises he might well be unintentionally strangling him. He eases the pressure slightly, and he knows Vegeta will take that as an opportunity. As fast as he can, Goku pulls his forearm away from the man’s neck, snatching the prisoner’s hand in his own before he can make a move. 

Vegeta’s breathing seems to become more laboured, if anything, and Goku frowns, pushing the other arm behind the man’s back. His trainee is small enough compared to himself that he can grip both wrists in one hand with relative ease, allowing him to support him with his free hand.

‘Easy, Vegeta. Deep breaths, yeah?’

‘Stop treating me like an invalid! I don’t need your help, I don’t need to calm down! I need you to fight me!’

‘I think we’ve done enough fighting for today. You’re too wound up, none of your attacks are landing because you’re too angry, you need to control that.’

‘If I’m angry, it’s because of you!’

‘Doesn’t matter. You still need to learn to calm down. Even if I stopped fighting properly, you still couldn’t hit me like this.’

‘You wanna bet?!’

‘Fine. I’ll show you.’

He shoves Vegeta away the smaller man stumbling and Goku rushes him, slamming him into the far wall, his torso pressed to Vegeta’s. The heat coming from the other man is radiating through his jumpsuit, his toned form straining against his, feet planting against the wall to push against him. That shift of Vegeta’s stance brings them closer together, Goku’s thigh pressing between the straining legs and his eyes widen slightly as he realises just what the issue is. The bagginess of Vegeta’s jumpsuit might well hide the obvious visually, but this close…

He releases the other man again, backing off, suddenly feeling jittery, his skin aflame. The idea had crossed his mind before, he couldn’t deny that, but to have it presented to him so undeniably…

‘I..uh….I need a break for a sec, Vegeta.’

Turning away, he grabs a bottle of water and a towel, taking a long drink, willing the pounding of his heart to slow, his body to calm well aware of his own reaction. Wiping his face with the towel, he turns, catching sight of the cctv camera in the corner of the room. He was reasonably sure that no one manned the damn thing any more...but that wasn’t the point. If he was going to press his advantage, he needed to make sure there were no witnesses.

He turns again, catching sight of Vegeta, the man’s reddened face and widened eyes, his stance defensive and makes up his mind, tossing the towel up and over his shoulder, watching for Vegeta’s reaction. Dark eyes widen further, face turning in the direction he had thrown the towel and it’s enough for him to steal a glance, confirming with a self satisfied grin that the cloth was indeed draped over the camera.

Time to turn it up.

Chugging the remaining water he tosses the bottle aside, levelling his gaze back on Vegeta. The older man cocks his head slightly, eyes flicking between the covered camera and Goku’s own, an eyebrow raising.

‘What’s the meaning of this?’

‘No meaning, really. Just wanted some privacy. That ok?’

‘You want privacy...with a convicted murderer? You really are a dipshit aren’t you?’

‘You wanna kill me?’

‘...No…’

‘You wanna hurt me?’

‘… Not particularly.’

‘Then it’s all good.’

‘I could though.’

‘You could try.’

As was his nature, Vegeta, of course took the statement as a challenge, barrelling forwards, his reticence seemingly forgotten. Goku grins to himself, expecting the response, falling into a defensive stance. He knows in this state Vegeta would be a force to be reckoned with, but he also knew just how desperate the other man could get, how his rage could be turned against him.

And so he wards off blows, slapping them aside harmlessly, enraging the other man, until in a fit of pique that catches him off guard, he finds himself pinned to a wall, Vegeta snarling in his face, the lengths of their bodies pressed together. His hands are beside his head, Vegeta’s fingers pressing into his wrists, his face so close he can feel the puff of Vegeta’s breath against his face.

He takes his chance, lunging forwards, tilting his head as he does, his mouth meeting the other man’s. 

It’s not what could really be described as a kiss, more him smashing his mouth into Vegeta’s, as if trying to headbutt him and not really understanding the concept. But it gets the point across, regardless of the sloppiness of the action.

The older man releases him, staggers back, and Goku presses his advantage again, lurching to pin him where Goku himself had been moments ago. Vegeta’s back collides with the wall, a soft grunt of surprise escaping him, and then Goku is pressing their lips together again, softer this time, his hands at Vegeta’s waist, holding, encouraging, being careful to ensure that the other man could escape if we wanted to.

He expects an escape attempt, or a punch to the gut, or a hard slap. Instead, the firmly muscled chest heaves against his, lips pressing back tentatively. Not daring to break the kiss, he trails his hands up the hard lines of ribs and muscle, warming his palms as he goes, until he can gently cup at neck and jaw.

It’s not how he imagined, but somehow, it’s better and he tightens his hold as he deepens the kiss. Beneath him, there’s a soft groan, Vegeta’s warm body arching to meet his, pressing into him. Through the thin material of the jumpsuit, Goku fancies he can feel everything, the swells and dips of Vegeta’s form, the heated line of his arousal against Goku’s leg, the frantic pounding of his heart in his chest.

But it’s Vegeta who breaks the kiss first, inevitably, Goku thinks, pulling back to meet the dark gaze. He won’t meet his eyes, though he doesn't move away either, and there’s no words he can find in that moment. He finds he doesn’t need to though. As if a switch has been flipped, Vegeta returns his affections in full force, mouth meeting his with all the aggression he’d come to expect of the man. There’s a tongue in his mouth, one that isn’t his, pressing to his own, hands gripping shoulders tightly, weight shifting as he balances on the ball of one foot. For a moment, Goku has to wonder just what he’s doing, until there’s a leg lifted around his, bringing their bodies together neatly. 

He wishes there was time to undress, to explore, his own hands fisting into the inmate’s clothing, releasing only to drag down the length of the man’s back to cup at the roundness of his backside. His partner jolts at the motion, something that sounds somewhat like a grumble coming from his throat, but its lost in the fact the movement rubs their arousals together, earning him an altogether different sound. That single action marks a steep incline towards frantic motion, Vegeta’s hips moving sharply against the firmness of his leg, and Goku smiles inwardly as he continues to devour the other’s mouth.

Of course, he could make a move to join him, but he suspects that at the rate Vegeta’s going, it won’t be long enough and in all honestly, this was more than he had ever hoped for to begin with. So he holds him, encourages him along, gripping his ass firmly until there’s a soft shudder and muffled grunt, followed by panting.

And then as abruptly as it had all started, Goku finds himself shoved away again, his ass hitting concrete with a thud, and he looks up to find a furious Vegeta glowering down at him. Though he has to say, it’s somewhat diminished by the equally furious shade of red his cheeks are currently stained with.

‘You...’ 

‘Hey...it’s all ok, Vegeta.’

‘How can...you just...’

‘I wanted to. And you wanted it too, by looks of it.’

The smaller man looks away, still flushing, stalking to grab his own towel from the floor. His back to Goku, he works quickly, and his trainer can only assume that he’s cleaning himself up as best as he can.

‘We’re done here.’

‘You sure?’

Goku smiles back easily, gently. He knows the panic mode Vegeta’s mind is spinning into – fear, embarrassment, shame – all covered with a veil of rage.

‘I…’

He takes the opportunity to lean back, knowing how the looseness of his pants tightens as he stretches, enough to give the impression to Vegeta of his own state of mind.

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why did you want to do...that,’ Vegeta gestures to the wall, caught off guard by Goku’s casual openness. ‘With me…’

‘I like you Vegeta. I know people would think that’s weird. I know you do too. But….I do...and I wanted to know.’

‘But you haven’t...’ a hand gestures towards his groin.

‘Yeah but that doesn’t matter. I just wanted to get close to you.’

He can practically see the ‘why’ in Vegeta’s eyes. Truth be told he didn’t know the answer himself, but he knew he felt an innate pull towards him, like nothing he had encountered before. And he liked that.

‘But...its’ disgusting, this is...wrong...’

‘Why?’

‘I’ve just debased myself in front of you, and you ask me that.’

Again, Goku shrugs. It hadn’t been expected, but it wasn’t anything that he was concerned about. If anything, he was pleased to have given the man some relief, if only for a short while.

‘Like you said, it’s been a while. And you can’t go and J O in your shower like I can. So it’s fine. I don’t think it’s disgusting. It’s just...what it is.’

‘...How...do you function, Kakarot?’

‘One day at time, Geets. That’s all it’s gotta be. You don’t have to think about it, just let yourself feel ok for a little while, huh? That’s all I want for you.’

‘I...’

‘And if you really want, when I leave here, I’ll never come back.’

It’s probably the hardest bluff he’s ever played, but he stands nevertheless, taking a few breaths to calm himself before brushing himself off.

Vegeta’s mumble is so quiet he can’t make out the words.

‘You good, Vegeta?’

‘I...you can come back. I wouldn’t wish to cause you harm by depriving you of my presence.’

‘Cool. I’ll come visit later this week then, huh?’

‘….If you like...’

He grins again, at the fact they always seem to end their spars this way now. But he knows its the closest Vegeta can get to actually expressing emotion.

Finally calm again, he steps towards the other man, slower now, watching as Vegeta lets him approach, let’s him wrap his arms around him and pull him into his body for just a moment before the bang on the door sounds, ending their session, and he watches as Vegeta’s lead away in cuffs again, silently now as he’s taken back to his cell. Goku takes a minute to retrieve the soiled towels balling them up to go in the prison’s laundry before he turns to the guard.

‘Hey, can you take me to the psychologist’s office?’

The guard peers at him dubiously.

‘You got an appointment?’

‘No but I just wanna see if he’s free.’

The man shrugs but takes him anyway and in a few minutes, Goku finds himself standing in the office, interrupting the doctor on his coffee break.

‘Mr. Son, you’re not booked to see me and I...’

‘Just a few minutes Doc. I just wanted to say something real quick.’

The older man sighs, gesturing to the guard to close the door and he does so with a confused glance to the psychologist.

‘Well?’

‘...I’ve just had a training session with Vegeta.’

‘Yes, I’d guessed that much. And?’

‘And I think he’s ready to go outside again.’


	10. Chapter 10

It’s been a year.

One year to the day since Vegeta had his first training session with Goku. To think that at the time, he had scoffed at the notion, ready to lay his teacher out for the sheer satisfaction of it. And now…

Vegeta sits awkwardly in the processing room, awaiting his turn to be called in and given the details of his duty today. Outside. In the real world, again.

He doesn’t know how it’s come about, though he reckons Goku has something to do with it, and he scuffs his shoe against the floor, trying to distract himself. Since their...intimate moment, the man had retreated a little. Not unkindly, but as if sensing that it was too much for Vegeta to process and his touches remained light and friendly, if regular.

A sharp buzzer sounds and a moment later he’s called through into a smaller room. He’s already been warned of the consequences of misbehaving whilst out. So he sits, facing the senior guard, his still cuffed hands in his lap, as the warden glares at him from the corner of the room.

He’s assigned a duty to help out at a local shelter for the homeless, on dinner duty no less, reminded to watch his mouth, and his fists. There would be guards on hand, anyhow. He’d not be the only inmate helping out, though he was certainly the highest risk.

And to top it all off…

‘Mr. Son will be meeting you at the centre to help out, of his own will. Which is beyond my understanding, but there you go.’

He doesn’t respond to that, there’s no response he can really give apart from wondering just what Goku’s motivation was. But then, he has some idea of that at least. More than these idiots do.

Warnings and duties delivered, he’s carted into another room where he’s stripped, searched and tagged around his ankle before being allowed to redress in civilian clothes. They don’t fit terribly well, there were few men whose stature was similar to his, and he’s forced to turn up the legs of the jeans in order to stuff his feet into rough boots. Dressed, he’s guided from the room once more, and into the back of a van full of other inmates. 

The road to the city is bumpier than he remembers, windier too, and more than once he shunts into the prisoner next to him as a corner is taken too sharply. It’s a shorter trip than he remembers too, and he grits his teeth as the doors to the van are opened again, sunlight streaming into the dim interior. At the guards beckoning, he climbs to his feet and hops out of the van, looking around.

This area of the city is...shoddy to say the least. There’s garbage in the streets, high sided buildings whose exteriors are starting to crumble, paint and plaster flaking away, smashed, or empty windows a common sight. And in the car park of the shelter, there’s a queue of people all waiting to go inside and get their meals for the day.

At least, he thinks, he’s always been fed well enough at the prison. That’s more than could be said for some of the sorry bastards he’s looking at. And he certainly didn’t deserve that much.

A shove to his shoulder knocks his gaze away from the queue and he grunts his displeasure at the guard who moves to unlock his cuffs though not before the man grips his wrist and hisses into his ear;

‘You think about running away or hurting someone, I’ll put you down myself, you understand?’

Vegeta casts a grin over his shoulder.

‘You could try.’

It’s not the smartest thing to say, but he’d never been good at ignoring a challenge. The cuffs at his wrists tighten for a minute before they’re released and he’s shoved forwards. Some part of him thinks to take that chance, to make a run for it, but he knows that guard is true to his word. He’d shoot to kill before he tried to chase him down.

Squaring his shoulders, Vegeta holds his head up as he walks towards the building, following the line of inmates. He wonders where Goku is, given the man was supposed to meet them here, and the notion that he might not be sends a pang of nervousness through him. He’s not sure why, he’s lived almost all of his life without him at his side, why should it concern him now?

But then, he’d lived most of his life trapped between the same gray walls, and everything around him suddenly seems larger than he’d remembered it being. He glances around again, careful not to let his gaze linger on anywhere for too long, keeping his head up despite the pounding of his heart in his chest. A guard standing near the entrance to the centre directs them towards an entrance around the back of the building, a man dressed in casual wear stood next to him that Vegeta had assumed was one of the staff. As he gets closer, the shock of ridiculous black hair puts paid to that, and his heart speeds up in an entirely different way.

Goku’s familiar grin is his first greeting of the day, and it’s enough to calm him somewhat. He inclines his head slightly in return and the taller man hops into place beside him.

‘So...big day, huh? Is it weird?’

Vegeta shrugs.

‘It’s just as grey as the prison.’

‘Well, here, yeah. But I checked it out a few days ago, there’s a park not far from here, and the centre’s alright inside.’

‘Hn.’

They file in and Goku’s not wrong. The shelter is...ok. It’s filled with table and chairs, not unlike the visiting room at the prison, posters on the walls, but the staff at least are friendlier than the prison guards and they welcome them in. It doesn’t take long for them to be assigned jobs, and it’s a relief to learn that he’s working in the kitchen, away from the numerous people crowding to be served. 

It’s tedious work. He’s set to clearing plates, scraping scraps of food into the trash, then rinsing stacks of dishes before setting them into the dishwasher. He’s bored after the first hour, and he’s surprised by how much it makes his back ache. Worse still is the constant bubbling noise in the background, people’s voices from every corner of the room. It shouldn’t be any worse than the prison, but for some reason, it has his back up.

It doesn’t help when one of the other volunteers, an older lady who likely means no harm, pats his shoulder as she passes.

He can’t help the growl that spills from his throat, whirling around to face the woman and he catches the brief flash of panic that crosses his face. 

‘Everything ok, Vegeta?’

Goku’s voice cuts through the moment, breaking his spike of anxiety and he manages to smooth the scowl from his face as the martial artist approaches slowly.

He swallows thickly.

‘...Yes. Fine.’

A large hand lays itself on that same shoulder briefly, comforting, as Goku smiles, placating, at the woman.

‘Sorry Pam. Vegeta isn’t so keen on being touched too much. Personal space and all that, yeah?’

‘..R...right. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you lad.’ The lady seems to calm a little, though its evident she’s still watching Vegeta warily. A chill of shame runs down his spine. He’s already failing. Is he so fragile now that he can’t handle an innocuous pat from an old woman?

He drops his gaze to the floor.

‘It’s fine. I...overreacted.’

He doesn’t want to say anymore, and somehow fate seems to favour him. The woman bustles off to attend to something else. Goku hovers nearby.

‘It’s good here, huh? We’re really helping people by doing this.’

Vegeta turns back to a stack of plates, rinsing them down. He couldn’t give less of a fuck about the homeless and cleaning up their mess was less than appealing. 

‘I know it’s not really your thing, but you should feel good about it.’

He lifts a stack of plates, carrying them over to the dishwasher. He knows that Goku’s eyes are lingering on him and he distracts himself with loading the machine up.

‘Ok. Well I’m going back to my station. Let me know if you need anything.’

Goku retreats and Vegeta sighs, looking up at the clock. His first legitimate occasion out of prison for over a decade, and he was cleaning other people’s shit. Not literally, at least, so he supposed it could be worse, but still…

He falls back into his thoughts, simmering to himself as he works, aware that there are more people entering the kitchen now with ever more stacks of plates and cups and bowls and cutlery. So much so that another is assigned to his station to help, a chirpy young man clearly still of school age, probably looking to score points by adding ‘charity worker’ to his college application.

The boy witters at him, near endlessly, and Vegeta does his best to discourage him by staying stoically quiet and throwing every glare and scowl he can at him. On the odd occasion that he has to actively interact with the student, either to pass him something, or to move by him, he’s met with a bright grin each time, so much enthusiasm brimming out of every sebum filled pore that he wants to vomit.

Eventually, the volunteer seems to cotton on that his attitude isn’t winning him over.

‘So, you’re kind of quiet, sir.’

Vegeta occupies himself with scrubbing a stubborn bit of ludicrously orange cheese off a plate. 

‘Are you...one of the prisoners they’ve let out?’

He shoves past him with a stack of dirty plates, depositing them, perhaps too heavily, on the worktop next to the garbage can, scraping them clean with the metal of his knife screeching against ceramic.

The boy inches nearer. Vegeta tenses, eyes flicking around for Goku who was nowhere to be seen. This kid was testing his patience and he knew it would wear out soon. The question was, what would he do when it did? 

‘What...’

Vegeta growls lowly, scowling at the boy, and this time he seems to have the sense to slow in his tracks.

‘You are, aren’t you? I’ve never been this close to a convict before. What did you do?’

In his hand, the dessert spoon he’d been separating out from the other cutlery bends until it digs painfully into his fingers shielded only by thin marigolds.

‘Leave me alone, kid.’

‘Why? Was it something bad? That wouldn’t let you out if it was that bad, so you can’t have hurt anyone.’

‘Didn’t you hear me?’ He snaps, glaring at the lanky youth, ‘Just fuck off. Let me work in peace.’

At that the boy takes a step back, wide eyed before his brows draw together in a look of determination and he stomps from the room.

Vegeta sighs in relief, turning back to his plate clearing, watching as congealed gravy slops into the bin. He drops the plate to the side, picking up the next when the sound of footsteps approaching pauses his motions and he turns to look over his shoulder. Goku stands in the doorway, guards at his shoulders.

‘Hey Vegeta, it’s lunch time already. Wanna get out of here for a bit?’

‘God, yes.’ He downs the plate and strips off the rubber gloves immediately, moving to join the other man. Goku leads him from the centre, though Vegeta can’t help but notice the boy he’d just snapped at glaring at him, standing next to one of the regular volunteers. He shrugs it off.

‘I headed out earlier to grab some food. You’re good with subs, right?’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

They leave the complex as Goku snatches a bag from a table, and the scent of warm bread and meat wafts to Vegeta’s nose. It’s been long enough since he’s had real food that his mouth instantly waters and he hurries alongside the younger man. He leads them to the park he had mentioned earlier, one of the prison guards following, and Goku selects a shaded spot under a tree to sit on the grass. 

‘Got one for you too, bud.’ Goku offers a sandwich to the guard, along with a drink, who takes it wordlessly and moves to a spot a little way off, still watching the two of them, his gun at his hip as a clear indication.

Vegeta turns his back to him, grabbing a drink from the paper bag and cracking it open, taking a long draw from it. It’d been too long, and he’s just as eager for the sandwich that Goku offers.

‘Steak and cheese, that ok? You’re not vegetarian or anything?’

Vegeta scoffs at the suggestion, unwrapping the sub and taking as large a bite of it as he can manage. It’s probably not as warm as it should have been, but it’s been so long since he’d had anything but the crap served in the canteen that he all but rolls his eyes in pleasure at the flavours.

Goku grins.

‘Good?’

He only manages a muffled response around his mouthful, wiping away juices on the back of his head and swallowing before taking another drink.

‘What did you get?’ Vegeta asks, eyeing Goku’s foot long sandwich. Compare to his own six inch, it looked magnificent. 

‘Meatballs and sauce.’

Despite the satisfaction of his own meal, Vegeta finds himself craving the alternative and Goku laughs, ripping a small section from the end and handing it to him.

‘I don’t usually share these but...’

Vegeta shoves the offering into his mouth before the man can say anything else. He nods appreciatively before making short work of the rest of his own sandwich, washing it all down with the rest of the can. 

Goku reaches into the bag again, this time pulling out a cookie. Vegeta takes it, but manages to resist the urge to eat it as quickly as he can. There’s no need to scarf down the confection here. No one was going to take it from him.

‘So how do you think it’s going?’ the younger man asks, taking a swig of his own drink.

Vegeta shrugs.

‘It’s dull. But it’s not the same walls I’ve become accustomed to.’

‘Yeah, a change of scene is good, huh?’

Vegeta grunts in quiet agreement, watching a runner make her way through the park before turning his gaze out to the pond.

‘How’s it being around other people again?’

‘That kid was pissing me off. Other than that...they’re just tolerably irritating.’

‘Yeah….he said you told him to fuck off.’

‘It might have happened.’

‘Look, I know you’re getting used to people again but, try and be patient, huh? He’s just a kid. He’s interested in stuff.’

‘Well that doesn’t have to be me.’

‘Well you kinda attract attention Geets. I’m not saying you have to be super nice or anything. But just...’

‘Try not to be a violent dickhead?’

‘I wasn’t gonna say that but...kinda, yeah. I don’t want all the effort you’ve put in to get here to go to waste.’

Vegeta takes a bite of the cookie in his hand, chewing slowly until he can’t justify his delay any longer.

‘I can’t promise anything.’

Goku smiles. 

‘I know.’

Vegeta rolls his eyes, turning has gaze out onto the park again. It’s pleasant to be here, the day warm and the sky bright. It’s late spring and the grounds around them are bright with fresh grass and vibrant flowers.

It’s too happy for Vegeta’s taste, really, but its mostly quiet and peaceful at least. The only thing to interrupt the quiet is a couple of women walking along the path near the waterfront, chatting to each other as their children run ahead of them, playing. Their shrieks of joy are irritating, high peals of laughter, but he suppose it can’t be helped.

Still, there’s something oddly reassuring in the notion that life carries on outside the prison and he shifts as he watches the small boys, one with jet black hair, the other an unusual shade of lavender, play tag, a girl of a similar age with bright blue hair chasing after them, demanding their attention.

Pushy brat, he thinks, taking another bite. To his alarm, the kids take a sudden turn, racing up the small hill they’re sat on, towards them.

‘Oh...Oh...’ Goku jumps to his feet next to him, as the squealing children barrel towards them.

‘Guys, guys, slow down...’

And then there’s a trio of children grappling with Goku and Vegeta scrabbles back, away from the mass of limbs.

‘Whoa, guys, take it easy!’

From amidst the pile of squirming children, Goku’s arms curl around them, holding the kids to him and Vegeta backs away further, almost relieved when the prison guard makes himself present once more, glancing at Vegeta questioningly. He shrugs, he has no involvement in this, and no desire to either.

‘Mr. Son...’

‘It’s alright, I got this,’ he manages to calm the pile of children, ‘Guys c’mon I’m...’

‘Uncle Goku, who are these people?’ The girl with her bright blue eyes asks, staring at Vegeta from where she clutches at Goku’s leg. There’s something oddly familiar about her.

‘Uh...look kids, I’m happy to see you an’ all but I’m workin’. Are your moms about?’

As if on cue, the presumed mothers come charging up the hill and Vegeta retreats even further. 

‘Goten! What on earth were you thinking running off like that?! You gave your poor mother a heart attack!’

‘But mommy, daddy’s here and...’

Ah. So that explained it. The dark haired brat was Goku’s youngest, and when Vegeta manages to get a look at the boy’s face as his mother pulls him away from his father’s legs, he’s amazed at his denseness that he didn’t realise sooner.

‘Goku! What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be working and here you are with...’

The dark haired woman turns her gaze on Vegeta, eyes widening slightly as they shift between him and the guard, making the connection. She clutches her son closer to her, hissing at Goku.

Vegeta shifts uncomfortably, aiming to distract himself, but not before he manages to lock eyes with the other woman. The bright blue eyes that both her children bear bore into his own as she too holds her children to her. He can’t help but remember her face, the silky strands of aqua blue hair that have fallen into her eyes, reminding him of a very specific moment on the only night they had known each other.

He drops her gaze, shoving his hands in his pockets, muttering something to the guard about needing to get back to work. 

‘Kids, let’s go...’

‘But uncle Goku...’ little boy with the lilac hair protests.

‘Enough, Trunks, let’s go.’ She all but pulls her children away, directing them back down the hill, but not before both of them peer back at him, and he gets a painfully clear view of his face. He looked so much like he did, at that age, save his colouring and he swallows thickly as his children are rescued from his presence.

It takes him a moment to realise that Goku is speaking to him, too busy watching the figures retreat.

‘What?’

Goku has never been good at hiding his emotions, and the sympathy is clear on his face.

‘...You ready to go back?’

He swallows thickly again, turning away.

‘Yeah.’

The guard seems bemused, but he shrugs, gesturing for Vegeta to walk ahead of him. He complies easily. He can’t wait to get away from here.


	11. Chapter 11

‘So once a week, huh? That’s pretty great news Vegeta.’

The man in front of Goku grunts, folding his arms over his chest, looking anywhere but at his visitor for the hour. 

‘Yes, I get to spend my life working for idiot homeless people. How wonderful.’

Goku laughs lightly. Despite the man’s grumbling, it was evident that Vegeta was pleased to have the opportunity to leave the prison, to see something other than the same walls he usually encounters.

‘The prison service must’a been impressed with you.’

‘Well you can see how my abilities were tested by scraping plates clean.’ Sarcasm drips from Vegeta’s words. Goku ignores it.

‘So it’s the same place they want you at?’

‘For now. Might see if I can spend my time picking garbage on the side of a busy road. I might get lucky enough to be taken out by a drunk driver.’

‘Well, I think it’s good you’re improving your people talky skills. Be good for when you get out of here.’

Goku sits back in the hard plastic chair that barely contains him, hands behind his head, his feet sliding an inch or two closer to the other man’s beneath that table.

‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’

‘You’ll be alright. I believe in yah.’ He slides his foot slightly further in, resting the tip of his sneaker against Vegeta’s ankle. Dark brows lift a fraction, but other than that, he pays the gesture no mind.

‘But...I don’t think I’m gonna be able to get a day off work every week.’

Vegeta’s scowls.

‘I don’t need you goddamn baby sitting me, I’m a fucking adult.’

‘Didn’t think ya did. Just…it was fun you know?’

‘You have a bizarre definition of fun.’

Goku shrugs.

‘So..about the other day...the ...uh...run in with...’

‘I’m not discussing it. Find something else to talk about or leave, Kakarot.’

‘But...’

‘No.’

‘Hmm.’

Fine, he thinks, shifting. Instead he focusing on moving his leg higher against Vegeta’s rubbing his half with his toes. Those eyebrows raise further and Vegeta glances around the mostly empty room, hissing at him. 

‘Not here, christ, do you want to the caught?’

Goku grins, but drops his foot back to the floor.

‘Yeah but it took your mind off everything, didn’t it?’

Vegeta glares at him flatly.

‘I hate you.’

‘Nah, ya don’t.’

\--

In the months that drift by, Vegeta commits to his new found volunteer work, and Goku listens attentively, week by week, as Vegeta fills him in on the details. Not that Vegeta speaks of it much, but on the days he comes in to training hitting harder than usual, he knows its gone badly. If it’s gone well, he gets a grunt, or a ‘fine’.

When Goku manages to get time off work, he joins the man, and at such sparse intervals, he can see the improvement. Oh he barks, and he snarks and he still prefers to be on his own when he can, but the edginess is fading and the aggression, when it does rear its head, is swallowed down, until he can let it out at training.

He hopes the warden is aware.

Wrapping his hands, he waits in the training room for his sparring partner, the tell tale sound of metal jangling announcing his arrival as he’s uncuffed and let into the room.

Goku received his customary grunted greeting.

‘Hey Geta. How’s it going?’

Another grunt.

‘Kid getting on your nerves again.’

‘No. Little shit’s finally gone to college.’

‘Huh. Good for him.’

‘Whatever.’

‘So what’s up?’

‘Nothing. Just fight me.’

Bullshit, if ever Goku’s heard it, but he obliges the other man, falling to a defensive stance. Vegeta comes at him without hesitation, and he smirks, loving the feeling of sparring with him, adrenaline making him jittery, excited, blood pounding through veins. Against him, Vegeta answers every punch with his own, every block and kick, dark eyes meeting his own, alight with his excitement and in a flurry of movement, Goku finds himself pinned to the floor, Vegeta’s hands at his wrists, knees pressing to his thighs. 

The warmth of Vegeta’s body pressed against his own causes a flush to rise into his cheeks.

‘Vegeta...the camera...’

Vegeta knows of course and he simpers down at him.

‘So fight me, Kakarot.’

Goku twists, and he feels the give in Vegeta’s posture, allowing him to push the other man off him somewhat. He’s not for letting going though, and they roll together, wrestling against the ground until Goku realises the man’s manouvered them into the corner directly beneath the camera, where the lens can’t quite see them.

He presses their bodies together once again, eyes warm as he leans in to press his lips against Goku’s.

His heart leaps in his chest. It isn’t the first time Vegeta’s kissed him since the fateful day months ago, but it still took his breath away. On the infrequent occasion when Vegeta had found it overwhelming to deal with people whilst volunteering, Goku had taken him aside and found the technique remarkably effective in calming him. Once he stopped complaining, anyway.

They're pressed together, Gokus lips against Vegeta’s, the heat of the smaller body making him sigh. The tongue against his is almost frantic, hands gripping his waist, encouraging him closer. They won't have time to… complete, but it doesn't seem to matter to him. They'll both take what they can get, while they can, comfort in each others presence, their closeness. Vegeta becomes more sure of himself everytime they touch, hands unerring on finding their way to his skin, calloused fingertips running the lines and crevices of his stomach, teasing along the top of the trousers, enough to make Goku uncomfortably warm. 

'Ge…' 

'Shut it, Kakarot.' Vegeta mutters but there's no bite to the words, 'Don't run your mouth now.' 

Goku didn't think that one make constituted running his mouth, but that was Vegeta for you. 

Palms slide their way beneath the waist band of his trousers, gliding over the fabric of his underwear, squeezing firmly, drawing a soft moan from him, his hips shifting against Vegeta’s.

‘If we keep going,’ Goku pants, drawing his head back enough to look the other man in the eye, ‘I’m not gonna stop.’

‘And that’s a problem how?’

‘Guards. Mess. God, I don’t wanna have to think about the boring stuff Vegeta but...’

Vegeta lifts his head to Goku’s jaw, running sharp teeth along the strong line.

‘Fine, idiot. If that’s what you think...’

He shoves at him, pushing him away and Goku swallows thickly.

‘I’m sorry, Vegeta, but we can’t get caught.’

He rubs at the back of his head, watching the other man stroll away to pick up his towel.

‘You really gonna make me be the one who thinks stuff through? That’s just gonna end badly.’

‘You’ve made your point, Kakarot. Now shut up and spar with me.’

‘Sure.’ 

They return to their previous task, but even as they do, Goku can feel Vegeta’s attention is elsewhere and eventually he calls another halt. The man positions himself against the wall beneath the camera in response, hiding from it again.

Goku settles beside him, drink in hand, his shoulder just pressed to the other man’s.

‘I believe in you, ya know? I think one day you’re going to be released.’

‘Shut it.’

‘You’re not the same guy you were when I met you. You know that, right?’

‘I said shut up, Kakarot. I don’t need to hear it.’

‘Yeah? I think you do. I think after you’ve been stuck in here with people who think you’re just a prisoner that you need to hear what someone else thinks.’

‘And that someone has to be you?’

‘Well...I’m the only one whose tried so far, right? But I don’t think that matters, I think if you gave anyone a chance they’d see what I do. I’m proud’a what you’ve done so far, and other people will see it too, one day.’

‘Hmph.’

It’s the only response he gets from the other man, but that’s all he expects and Goku leans in a little closer. Vegeta doesn’t move, simply allows Goku to rest against him, his shoulder dropping slightly to make room even as he stares dead ahead.

They sit for some time like that, until the pounding at the door announces that their session has ended once again. Goku sighs, climbing to his feet.

‘When you volunteering again?’

‘Next week, same as always.’

‘Cool. And visiting?’

‘My father and brother are here tomorrow.’

‘K. So...I’ll see you next week then?’

‘...Yes.’

‘Great. Take care of yourself, Vegeta, I’ll see you then.’

They follow the same ritual as always. Vegeta ignores his farewell, let’s the guards cuff him and lead him from the room. Goku watches him go, then grabs the towels to go in the laundry and heads home, whistling to himself as he goes.

–  
Vegeta winces. Trapped, naked, in a shower cubicle and surrounded on all sides by other inmates was not how he envisaged his death. But here he was, pinned to the wet floor with a thick hand around his throat, choking him as blows rain down on his head and shoulders. The showers have been turned on to cover up the sounds of the beating, his grunts lost under the spray of water.  
His left eye is swollen shut, his nose and lips dribbling a steady trickle of blood over his chin and he kicks blindly. There’s a grunt as his foot connects with something soft, but it won’t do him much good. The inmates have decided he’s a traitor, a goody two-shoes, and for that, he would pay. He’s almost certain Frieza is behind, though his hench men are nowhere to be seen.

In the distance, he registers shouting, some stray part of his mind that isn’t focused on trying to wriggle free of this son-of-a-bitch’s grip recognising Nappa’s voice. The fool should have realised he shouldn’t bother, leave him to his fate before he got dragged into it as well.

But Nappa was loyal, perhaps to a fault.

‘Come on, prince, what happened to all those martial arts you’ve been learning? What, your ‘sensei’ not teach you that?’

The thug with his hand around his throat taunts, tightening his grip, dragging him from the cubicle by his throat.

‘Or were we right? Has he been teaching you how to be his good little boy the entire time?’

He thrashes again as hands grab his arms and legs, pinned, defenceless.

From the other side of the room, he can hear Raditz shouting now too. Idiots, all of them. Raditz hadn’t been as subtle as he’d thought in the change of his own behaviour, seeming to attempt to follow in Vegeta’s footsteps now, to get on the straight and narrow. He would face the same fate, eventually, unless he managed to get out first. Maybe he would. His record wasn’t as bad as Vegeta’s.

The next blow is to his stomach, though it’s quickly followed by more that connect with any part of his body that the men around him can reach. He retches in response, not managing to bring anything up with it at least, though his tongue is coated in his own blood, droplets of saliva escaping from his lips as he sputters and coughs, wheezing as his chest his pummelled, screaming at the wrenching of his arms, the feeling of something landing on his foot, crushing, shattering.

He loses tracks of the beating, floating in a haze of pain, ears ringing, vision blurred, his body aching, bile in his mouth and blood in his nose. He’s vaguely aware of the scent of urine, something warm spattering over him, and he’s not sure if his own bladder has given out or if one of his assailants was relieving himself.

The guards don’t seem to notice anything. He doesn’t know where they are but surely the group of unsupervised criminals have been here long enough to notice something is amiss?

Screams are wrenched from him again as he’s turned over, his back exposed now. One of his attackers has apparently managed to procure contraband, because there’s something sharp being pressed into his flesh, scoring lines into his back. 

‘You fu…’ His words trail into another scream as the sharpness presses deep into muscle and twists, another hand fisting into his hair, holding his chin to his chest.

‘You know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut.’ One of them mutters.

Another laughs.

‘Don’t give a shit what he says, he’s dead anyway.’

‘Wh...’

A foot in the small of his back sends his hips crashing to the floor and he can see his own blood swirling down the drain where skin breaks and bleeds, scraped against the rough ground.

‘Not so high and mighty now, are we prince? On your knees in the shower...there’s a joke in there somewhere but lucky for you, I don’t swing that way.’

‘Fu...’

Something collides with the back of his head, face pressing into the floor and he sputters as water fills his nose and mouth.

‘That’s it...hold him there.’

He thrashes, struggling against the hands holding them. He just about manages to turn his head, to keep his airways clear, only to have a hand twist in his hair, holding him under again.

There’s too many of them, he can’t hope to get away from so many attackers, and he coughs and struggles, water pooling in his lungs, stinging, burning. Behind him, he’s aware of voices rising again, loud bangs sounding in the background.

It doesn’t seem to matter now, noise and sensation blend together, and the only thought that manages to find purchase in his mind, is his wondering if they would tell Goku of his death


	12. Chapter 12

Goku’s call comes on a wednesday afternoon.

Vegeta wouldn’t be attending training and the fear settles in his stomach before he can even ask why. He knows the answer.

He can’t see him, no point in visiting now, they would notify him if he was required. He feels sick, and he paces his flat, temper fraying at his children’s questions, snapping at his colleagues.

The next call comes on the following tuesday morning. The prison service want him to come in and he responds instantly, driving at an all together irresponsible pace to reach the large complex. Nurses greet him, guiding him through winding wards until they reach a private room just off the intensive care ward, two guards standing outside.

It’s brightly lit, despite the single tiny window, strip bulb lights overhead casting uncomfortably white light everywhere. It seems to wash the colour from the room, what little there was of it anyway, pale green blankets against white sheets, the pastel blue of Vegeta’s gown.

Oddly enough, it’s the man himself who stands out starkly against the pale colours of the room. Not that his skin has much colour to it itself, but it’s been painted in shades of vibrant purple and blues, mottled green and yellow at his temple, partly hidden by the wash of dark hair. His eyes, closed, swollen, are black, lips cracked around breathing apparatus, the deep red of dried blood at the corners, gathered around the tubes in his nose.

The beep of the heartrate monitor is steady, at least.

The nurse leaves him and Goku settles into the chair beside the bed, reaching out to trace the veins at Vegeta’s wrist, trailing over a palm that twitches at his touch to slide fingers between his own.

Those same fingers curl, nails threatening his skin and Goku’s eyes return to the prisoner’s face. Brows furrow, eyes rolling beneath closed lids. The beeping increases.

‘Easy, Vegeta. It’s just me.’

He recognises his voice, he must do, because features slacken, blunt nails retracting from his hand to ease the pads of fingertips along smooth skin. Steady again. He sits, staring at his tutee’s face, holding him quietly. When the door opens, it reveals the doctor and two men that Goku instinctively knows are Vegeta’s family. The resemblance is too striking to miss.

He greets them, listens to the doctor rattle of lists of medical terms that Goku can’t begin to guess the meaning of. Vegeta’s father must feel the same, interrupting, and it’s easy to see where   
Vegeta got his own imperious attitude from.

‘He’s lucky, he’ll heal, but it will take a long time. He’ll be in isolation for the duration for his own safety, you understand.’

The brother, it seems, holds less of his family members’ personality, far more gentle than the other men, and when the doctor has left, he offers a quiet greeting to Goku.

The marital artist returns it, then makes his excuses and leaves.

When he visits again a few days later, Vegeta’s eyes are open. Bloodshot, swollen still, but open, and the tube in his mouth is gone. Those dark eyes track him through the room, blinking back the wetness gathering. Not tears, Goku knows, more likely an effect of the swelling.

Most people would be upset by such a situation, would be crying, but Vegeta isn’t most people and as Goku settles into the chair beside the bed, taking his hand, he seems more irritated than anything. He can’t say he’s surprised.

‘Hey.’

Vegeta licks cracked lips, seeming to contemplate whether or not to try to answer, before he simply offers a nod.

‘Been a rough few days, huh?’

The familiar grunt sounds in Vegeta’s throat, eyes fixed upon a ceiling panel over head, though his fingers tighten a fraction against Goku’s own.

‘We’ll get you back up and fighting soon, Ge.’

Vegeta opens his mouth, coughing as he makes to speak and Goku hurries to pour a cup of water for him. When the coughing finally abates and he’s taken a drink to soothe his throat, Vegeta turns his gaze to him.

‘Good.’ His voice is so hoarse, so quiet in his damaged throat that Goku has to strain to hear him, ‘And when I’m recovered, I’m going to kick the living shit out of those bastards. There won’t be anything left for their families to visit when I’m done with them.’

‘Vegeta, that won’t help anything. All you’re going to do is get yourself hurt again. You’re an incredible fighter but you can’t take on that many people at once.’

‘I never said at once,’ the smaller man rasps, ‘I’ll find them and take them out one at a time if I have to.’

‘Vegeta...I understand you’re angry, but it’ll just add more time to your sentence. And you’re so close to getting out of here and you’re so much better than that.’

‘Am I, Kakarot? Because last time I checked, I was still classed as a dangerous criminal that no one wants in the real world.’

Any attempt Goku would have made to counter that statement is cut off by a sudden round of coughing and he moves to stand at the other’s side, a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to stabilise him against the wracking of his body.

When the hacking stops, Goku pushes him back into the pillows, glaring him down until he stops attempting to sit up again.

‘Stop, Vegeta.’

The response that he gets is a dry rasp of his throat, and a hard glare.

‘I know, but just think about it. You wouldn’t be out at all if they didn’t think you were changing. Please, Vegeta, don’t throw it all away now, you’ve done so much.’

Cracked lips part again, tongue flicking out to lap away small beads of blood that have gathered and Goku takes a moment to lean in, his hand curling around more firmly around Vegeta’s.

‘I really want you to get out of here, Vegeta. I.. I think I…’

It’s the door opening unexpectedly that sends him reeling back, away from the other man, dropping his hand and into a chair. He doesn’t really care who caught them, personally, but Vegeta is highly private, at best, bordering on neurotically cagey, and if he risks it it might just be enough to send the man into a rage that destroyed his chances.

There’s no greeting that follows, and a quick glance tells Goku all he needs to know. Vegeta Senior, as Goku has learnt his friend’s father is called, strides into the room, surveying. He looks at his son only briefly before his gaze casts down upon Goku and the younger man straightens in his chair. There was something about the taller man, and he can’t quite tell if he’s for the first time experiencing intimidation, or if it’s some desire to be taken seriously, because if there was any first impression he got from the man that Vegeta himself bowed before, it was that everything was beneath him.

‘Son, isn’t it?’

‘Huh?’

Those dark eyes bore into him, roll in exasperation and Goku shifts.  
‘Your name is Son, isnt it?’

‘Uh...yeah, Goku. Son Goku.’

‘Is that so? Vegeta told me it was Kakarot.’

‘Uh...yeah, well it was a while ago, but I changed it. Long story.’ He rubs at the back of his head.

‘And why are you here, Kakarot?’

Goku resists the urge to whine at the elder man for referring to him so. He only just tolerated his Vegeta calling him that, and only because it was that or an insult.

‘Uh...well I’m visiting Vegeta.’

‘Why?’

‘...’Cos he’s hurt...and I wanna make sure he’s ok...’ Goku answers slowly, wondering why anyone would question a person visiting another in hospital.

There’s no direct answer, Vegeta Senior instead walks away from him, to the side of his son’s bed to look down at him. His Vegeta rolls his head on the pillows, looking up at his father, though he holds his gaze for only a few seconds before dropping it, looking anywhere else in the room that he can.

‘The psychologist seems to be under the impression that you two are fond of each other.’ He states into the heavy silence of the room. Goku feels that there’s probably an implication there, but he can’t be sure.

‘Why is that?’

‘Uh...’ Goku starts, only to be cut off by the man in the bed.

‘Father...is this necessary now?’ Vegeta’s voice has to strain to be heard.

‘Yes. I’m intrigued as to why this...’ he gestures to Goku, ‘...has caught your attention so.’

Of course there’s no response from Vegeta. He simply stares over at the far wall again, his eyelids drooping a little this time.

‘Mr...uh, Vegeta...I think your son needs to rest.’

‘He’ll cope...’

‘But he’s…’

‘What is it about him, exactly?’

Vegeta doesn’t answer still and Goku shifts.

‘Uh...’

‘You spend years in here,’ Vegeta Senior growls to his son, ignoring Goku entirely, ‘make a fool of me, a mockery of our family name because you can’t control your temper and now you won’t even answer me?’

In his hospital bed, Vegeta shifts, snarling quietly at his father, still pale and weak and defiant. Goku stands, walking over to the other side now.

‘Sir, Vegeta doesn’t need this now and...’

‘Why are you coddling him? You don’t even know him and yet here you are, sitting at his beside, clucking over him like a mother hen. He’s a murderer, why do you even concern yourself with him? Most of your ilk would be cowering in the streets at his name.’

‘Well whatever he did all those years ago, he doesn’t do it any more, and he doesn’t seem to be the same as he was even when I met him. So I don’t believe he’s a murderer any more. I wanna help him.’ He glances down to Vegeta, the urge to take his hand in his own so strong that he has to force his fingers to wrap around the bed’s railings to stop them.

‘You wish him free?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And what of you, Vegeta?’ The older man looks down, ‘Are you capable of staying out of trouble? Is this simpleton somehow beneficial to that?’

Vegeta rolls his head to look at his father.

‘...I don’t wish to be here. I will do what I need to to achieve that.’

‘I see. In that case, I will leave you with your mentor.’

If the taller man had had tails, Goku could have imagined them fanning behind him as he all but stalks from the room.

‘Uhhh...so is he mad or...’

‘If he was mad,’ Vegeta mumbles, face turning into the pillow and eyes drifting shut, ‘You wouldn’t be standing there talking to me.’

Sleep claims Vegeta’s consciousness moments later and Goku swallows thickly. The attitude that Vegeta seemed to carry with him is so much clearer now that he can see his father’s influence, and he understands now just how deeply the family is steeped in crime and violence, in a way that Vegeta could never hope to be truly free of.

But he can try and Goku would try to help him every step of the way.

–

Months pass, and Vegeta spends much of it confined to his bed in the hospital ward. When the life-threatening injuries have healed, he begins a long process of recovery, far removed from prison life. Though the food isn’t much better than that which he had received on the prison ward.

In those weeks he only hears snatches of gossip of what occurs in the cells. He gathers that the inmates who attacked him have, as expected, had their sentences extended significantly. It’s a small comfort, but at least it’s something. Not that that will help him when he’s returned there. It’ll just be another reason for them to make sure they finish the job this time.

Amongst his attackers, he learns that Nappa and Turles, too, have had their sentences extended, for attempting to stop them, or so he’s told. He’s not sure how true that is, particularly in Turles’s case, but it warms him just the same.

Of course, Goku believes the best in them, convinced that they were trying to protect, or at least avenge him. News on Raditz is suspiciously quiet, but every now and then, he catches whispers of good behaviour and reformed character. He doesn't know if he believes that either, Raditz is too dumb to learn how to play nice. But then, he had thought himself too far gone down the wrong path to ever return and now he’s volunteering for charity, trying to get a case together to build a life for himself.

As the weeks go by, he sits with Goku, with psychologists and counsellors, looking through job profiles and trying to form some sort of resume that doesn’t explicitly state that he has no experience. He could have studied, he supposes, could have turned his mind to something, although it seems too late now.

But perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to try. His father had money, enough for him to live on, away from his clutches, and despite his family’s untoward history the man didn’t seem to want for his sons to be involved in the family business. Perhaps he could undertake a degree. He had the brain for it, at least.

Eventually, Vegeta finds himself being turned out of his now familiar hospital room and he dreads the return to his cell, so it comes as a pleasant surprise when he’s lead down different paths from the ones he’s used to. He wonders at first if it’s simply been so long since he’d walked them that he’d forgotten the routes...but no...he’s taken to a different area of the prison, one reserved for slightly less violent offenders and he finds his meagre belongings in the cell there.

He has another meeting, he’s told, with the prison warden a few weeks from now. And he might just want to draw some of those ideas he’s been mulling over for the last few months together.


	13. Chapter 13

It’s been a year and a half since Goku met Vegeta, and he sits with him now, in the visitor area, where there’s no glass between them, watching him filling in paperwork. An application for a degree in pharmacology, of all things. So he can fix all the things he fucks up while training, Vegeta says. Goku nods along with his plans. He’s not sure of the validity of it, but it seems like sound logic to him. 

Around them, there are pamphlets scattered liberally, guides to local universities that might be convinced to take a former convict. It’s charity, really, for them to do it and Vegeta knows that, but he’ll take when he can get now. For once, even he realised his ego would have to take a back seat to the practicalities of life.

Goku can’t really offer much in the way of guidance, so he sits and watches as Vegeta’s surprisingly neat, if bold, handwriting fills page after page. Most people would do this on a computer these days, but Vegeta seemed to think that there was a personal touch about doing it by hand, adding a degree of humanity to the forms that monitors couldn’t. Harder to dismiss, he reasoned.

When the inmate’s hand finally begins to cramp, Goku stands moving to fetch a drink for him. Vegeta downs it quickly before going straight back to the forms, moving onto his second application. 

It takes days for him to fill them all in, and when he’s done, Goku helps him slide the forms into crisp A4 envelopes that Vegeta’s already penned addresses on to. The stack is big enough that it takes both of them to carry them to be mailed and then suddenly they find themselves with little to do. 

They head to the training room to spar.

–

Weeks later, Goku sits beside Vegeta in a mostly empty visitor’s room once again, helping him sort through the responses to his applications. The scowl perpetually written into Vegeta’s face only seems to grow deeper as he reads through letter after letter. Goku picks through more slowly, reading was hardly his strong suit, and the language that most of these places use is hardly plain.

‘I’m may as well just fucking resign myself to being either a drug dealer, or homeless now.’

‘I thought you wanted to be a farmer? Radishes are easy to grow, you know, you could do that. Dunno why you’re even studying for it.’

Vegeta blinks, looking up at him, startled before his eyes roll so hard Goku is sure he can hear the motion.

‘Kakarot, pharmacology is the study of pharmaceuticals. That is, medicines, or drugs.’

‘Oh...so you’d be a drug dealer anyway?’

‘Not quite the same thing as a pharmacist, Kakarot. I’d be selling licensed, legal medicines, not the shit you take to get high in a back alley.’

‘Oh.’

‘It’s almost like educational establishments, filled with young, potentially vulnerable people don’t want to have a dangerous ex-criminal among them.’

Goku blinks at him. He doesn’t necessarily understand most of the words Vegeta’s using, but he can catch the tone well enough and he reaches out to pat at his arm comfortingly.

‘Even if you don’t get into school, you can still get a job though.’

‘Yes but if I don’t have a job to go to before I try for parole then they’ll just laugh at me. If I can get accepted to study it shows I’m serious about my future. One that doesn’t involve crime.’

Goku hums, tearing the next envelope open, and setting to carefully reading the letter. His eyebrows lift slightly.

‘Uh...Geta.’

‘Stop calling me that.’

‘I will when you call me Goku.’

‘Never!! You’re Kakarot now. Get used to it.’

‘Anyway, Geta...this one says something different.’ He slides the letter over. 

Vegeta halts in his quiet grumbling, picking up the letter, eyebrows lifting.

‘Well?’ Goku prompts.

‘It’s...it’s not a full offer. They’re offering to let me do a foundation course first, since I don’t have the qualifications they’d normally expect for a bachelors...and...fuck it, if there’s nothing better I’ll take it.’

Vegeta returns to his task with renewed vigour, pulling open the rest of the letters. His shoulders slump a little again by the time the task is done. 

‘No fucking luck. I’ll take the foundation. It’s a start.’

‘Which university is it?’

Vegeta finds the letter again, and Goku’s eyes widen as for the first time, he looks at the crest on it.

‘Capsule University. Stupid name.’

Goku laughs heartily at that before grinning at the other man.

‘At least you got into the best, Vegeta.’

‘Is it?’

‘You heard of the Briefs?’

‘What those dumbass rich celebrities that name themselves after underwear?’

Goku’s grin widens.

‘Yup them. They’re scientists. Like, really smart scientists. And they run the university. Gohan’s hoping to go there when he’s older to study robotics. Pretty sure he’ll get in.’

‘Why? Is he that smart?’

‘Yeah. And Bulma said she’d let him in, on account of him being smart and my kid.’

‘...You know one of the Briefs personally?’

‘Yah. So do you’

‘...I think you’re confused...’

Goku takes that moment to pick up one of the abandoned prospectuses, flicking through the capsule logo laden brochure until he finds the picture he’s looking for: the entirety of the living Briefs family, youngsters included.

He slides it in front of the other man, watching his jaw drop.

‘How did you not see that before?’

‘I...thought it was a stupid gimmick school, I didn’t even think it was worth applying but...’

‘You wanna call them?’

Vegeta jumps to his feet, heading to the pay phone in the corner of the room and Goku grins again, leaning back, hands behind his head.

Life had a funny way of working itself out. 

His grin widens.

Bulma was going to flip her shit.

\--

He sits before the panel, the first time he'd ever had this chance and he sweats beneath his jumpsuit, hands clenched. He's so close to his freedom now, so close to his new life… 

They question him in aspects he hadn't considered. Bank accounts and finances, associates, contacts… 

His studies, it seems, are less important to them. His future, so long as it didn't involve him committing any more crimes is seemingly irrelevant. He was a child when he was admitted here and now being cast out as a grown man, having to carve a new place out in the world. 

He's warned to stay away from his father's contacts, not that he has any desire to be anywhere near them anyway. He would be have to check in with a parole officer every week, and there's a list they give him that's as long as his arm of places he's not allowed to go. 

That chafed. Perhaps not as much freedom as he thought. But he has his own house to live in, courtesy of his mother. She'd set the property aside for he and his brother, in case they'd needed to get away from his father, once they turned 18. He doesn't even know what state its in, but it's a home at the very least. 

There's murmurings and nodding and his heart climbs in his chest. 

'Granted. Under the conditions set. You'll be granted a day to get your affairs in order, accompanied by an officer at all times prior to your release. You'll serve here until your degree course starts and should you not comply with the conditions of your parole, you'll be returned to serve your sentence for an indefinite period. If you meet the conditions of your parole without fail, we’ll review them in a few years. Understood?’

Vegeta nods numbly and climbs to his feet, taking the paperwork presented to him for filing with the clerk outside. He had to resist the urge to clutch it to his chest.

–

Other than his first year under incarceration, the last two months of his sentence are the longest Vegeta has ever experienced in his life. But now, on his last day, he finds himself sat on his cot, idly picking at threads in his jumpsuit. He’d briefly seen Nappa and the others the night before to say his final goodbyes.

A guard appears in the doorway making him jump and he holds still as the man gestures for him to leave. Vegeta grabs the small bag containing his meagre possessions and walks free of his cell, out to the processing rooms. He’s given a final strip search, before he changes into civilian clothes and he walks out of the front doors of the prison into the car park where Goku is waiting for him, umbrella in hand as torrential rain sweeps down from overhead.

The man is barely containing his excitement, dancing from foot to foot and it takes a sharp glance to stop him from trying to hug him.

‘So...your place?’ Goku asks.

‘Food first. Then...yeah.’

‘Cool. I know this great diner on the road to town. Sound good?’

‘Fuck yes.’

He steps in alongside Goku, sheltered safely under the large umbrella, though he almost balks when he realises what the larger man drives.

‘What the hell even is that?’ he asks, eyeing the car he’s being presented with. 

‘S’a’mini. From England. Like in that film, with the three of them, in Italy...where they steal the gold?’

‘I must have missed that one. Anyway...British cars are shit.’

Goky pats the car, hand painted a hideous shade of mustard yellow.

‘Does me ok.’

‘How do you even fit in that thing?’

‘She’s a bit bumpy. And it’s hard with the kids but… I like her.’

‘We’re getting you an actual car, Kakarot. The fuck are you, a clown?’

‘You get your car first. Then we look at mine. Deal?’

‘No. I’m never being seen in this thing again once you get me home.’

Goku laughs lightly again at the reaction. Vegeta clambers in, uneasy as beneath him, the car groans at the weight of two fully grown men. Vegeta tuts, and sets about fiddling with his new phone, setting up the internet service to start scrolling through car listings. He probably couldn’t afford anything new but…

Something catches his eye in the used section of the website, something huge and sleek and dark…

Besides him, Goku whistles, glancing down at the phone screen.

‘Wow, she’s a beauty.’

‘Desoto Fireflite. Black. Perfect.’

And eyewateringly outside of his price range. He sighs, locking the screen, looking up as Goku pulls them into a small diner on the side of the road. It appears to only serve the standard fare, but the idea of burger, fries and onion rings has him salivating. 

His partner buys and he almost moans at the flavour, washing down meat and bread with sugary soda, sat at a small plastic table. Meal complete, Goku insists on dessert and despite the fact Vegeta has never had much of a sweet tooth, he’s more than happy to devour the slab of cheesecake that’s placed in front of him.

The last fifteen minutes of his life have already been better than the last fifteen years.

Meals finished and bellies bulging, the men make their way back to the ridiculous car, listening to suspension squeal as they roll out again.

‘So, you gonna give me directions?’

Vegeta does, surprised to find that his house is, conveniently, only a few streets from Goku’s. That could get annoying, he supposed, but for now it was useful and comforting and he clambers out of the car, shoulders his bag and makes his way to the front door.

He’d been allowed a day of resettlement before leaving the prison, and it had been enough to make sure that the house was in working order. Now though…he’d known his brother had decided to work on it a bit for him, make sure it was all ready for him to move in, but he hadn’t quite expected to find it so...clean.

‘Vegeta….hey.’

He starts at the voice, not expecting anyone but Goku, but he turns to greet his younger brother nevertheless. The man, smaller than him by a head or so, dashes forwards to hug him and Vegeta pats him awkwardly on the shoulder, not expecting the sudden affection. Without his father to watch over him, it seemed Tarble was far more free with his emotions.

‘Tarble...I wasn’t expecting you.’

‘I know. And I wouldn’t normally let myself in but...I wanted to make sure it was ok for you for your first night, and I thought you might want some company.’ The younger man’s eyes slide over to Goku, ‘Though it looks like you might be ok for that.’

Vegeta only grunts, refusing to dignify the comment and makes to investigate the rest of his brother’s handiwork as Goku and Tarble make awkward small talk. Although, he thinks as he hears laughter from the hallway, perhaps it’s not that awkward after all.

Lap of the house complete, he makes his way back to the living room, finding the other two already sprawled on the sofa, the controllers to some game console in hand. Goku has somehow managed to procure a beer from somewhere.

‘Aren’t you seeing your kids tonight, Kakarot?’

‘Nah. Chi-Chi’s got ‘em today. Otherwise I wudna come to pick you up.’

‘Why do you call him that?’ Tarble glances up questioningly.

Goku exhales roughly and Vegeta smirks as he settles onto the sofa as far from the other two as he can.

‘It was my birth name,’ Goku explains after a moment, ‘But I changed it legally years ago. I don’t feel like a Kaka-whatever. Long story though.’

Tarble, at least, is able to take a hint and simply nods, turning his attention back to the game. Vegeta watches on with mild interest as two figures smash each other around the screen, destroying scenery in the process and he snorts to himself at the ridiculous display when one careers through a mountainside.

He takes over from his brother after a while, fighting Goku, and losing, before Goku swaps out with Tarble to order takeaway so they have something to eat and before Vegeta’s even really aware, the sun has set and Tarble’s stretching and yawning.

‘Urgh, it’s late. I should get home, Gure will be wondering where I am.’

‘Gure?’ 

‘My girlfriend.’

‘Ah. Yes.’

Tarble stands, brushing himself down.

‘I’m working tomorrow, but we can catch up on the weekend...if you’re not busy?’

Vegeta can’t imagine what his brother thinks he’ll be busy with, but he nods anyway.

‘Call first. We’ll see.’

‘Sure. We can go furniture shopping or something.’

‘Sure. It’s not like anything’s going to fit in Kakarot’s shit heap of a car.’

‘….k...see you Goku.’

‘Bye Tarble, nice to meet you!’ comes the muffled voice from the kitchen and Vegeta listens to footsteps receding, holding back a smile when he hears a bark of laughter from the garden path.

He rises, stretching, shutting off the TV to wander into the kitchen, finding Goku peering into a bare fridge. 

‘Your brother didn’t buy any food, huh?’

‘Apparently not.’

‘So...I’ll see you soon then?’ Vegeta questions, wondering if Goku would take the hint. It felt like it was about time to get used to having his own place again. 

‘Oh...I uh...well I’ve been drinking so...can’t really drive home now, can I?’

‘You live a half hour walk away.’

‘Yeah but...could get into all sortsa trouble at this time if night.’

‘Kakarot, no one is going to bother someone your size, and especially not in this neighbourhood.’

‘Umm...well...’

‘For god’s sake, spit it out, idiot. It’s plain you don’t want to go home, but what I can’t fathom is why.’

For the first time ever, Vegeta witnesses a flush on Goku’s face, colouring his cheeks an unflattering shade of red.

‘I just thought...since you’re out now, and we have some...proper time together we could...maybe..ah...’ his hand buries itself into his hair and Vegeta watches with amusement as his former mentor attempts to get the words out, ‘I though you might want to...spend the night...together.’

‘Oh.’

Oh. So that was it. So caught up in the small details of having his life back, Vegeta hadn’t even thought about how he would spend his first night, and part of him craved the idea of spending some quality time by himself.

‘I...hadn’t considered it.’

‘So you don’t wanna?’ Goku looks crestfallen at the comment.

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘So you do wanna?’ Eyes light up instantly.

‘I didn’t say that, either.’

Goku’s expression takes on one he’s not used to seeing on the taller man, his usual easy going nature flashing into exasperation.

‘Well what do you want then? It can’t be both.’

‘I...just...’

Vegeta halts, tightness in his chest as he runs his hands into his own hair, gripping at the strands, eyes darting about the room. In a moment of unease, he feels terribly small in the world around him now, like the walls of the house aren’t thick enough, the windows too big, the streets too open. He bites his lip.

‘There’s...all this space, and all these things to do and I...I don’t...’

He tries to quell the anxiety rising in his chest, making his voice tight.

‘Where do I start? I...I can’t…’

Goku slides in beside him to halt his words, thick arms sliding about his waist, pulling Vegeta into his chest and the smaller man resists for a moment.

‘I’m sorry Vegeta. I was so excited for you...I forgot that this must be weird to you. I didn’t mean to pressure you into anything. I just thought you’d want to, ‘cos all those months ago you said...’

‘I said the first thing I’d do is get laid.’ He finishes weakly, letting his forehead rest on a collarbone, ‘But I was being flippant, I didn’t...’

‘I know. I was being dumb. It’s ok. I won’t make you do anything you’re not happy with. You’re free now...you do what you wanna do. S’long as you don’t hurt anyone.’

‘And am I hurting you?’

‘If you say no, you mean?’

Vegeta nods and Goku’s arms tighten around him.

‘No. I mean, I want to Ge, I really want to. But… I want you to be happy more.’

Leaning back, his hands flat against Goku’s biceps, he catches the dark gaze, his friend’s face open and hopeful and warm. Angers rises in his chest, heart thumping harder, and as he looks at him, he acknowledges the root of the problem, the fear of being vulnerable to someone who could, if they wished to, harm him. So many others had, the instinctive part of his brain only assumed this closeness would cause that again.

But he’d never wanted to live his life in fear, certainly not when there was something he wanted on the other side of it. His fingers dig into those hard biceps, fingernails threatening skin’s integrity as he breathes hard, eyes shut, pressing himself into that anger, letting it wash through him, muscles trembling as the desire to move, to strike first tenses his body. Forcing breath out through clenched teeth, he looks to the man holding him, closing his lips over teeth again, and though his expression must seem oddly pained to Goku, he nods.

‘...you can stay...with me.’

Relief washes over Goku’s face, his easy smile returning, and he leans in slowly, pressing their lips together in something far more chaste and gentle than Vegeta had expected. Broad hands at his back press him in, firm, but not enough to cause panic and he understands just how careful Goku is being. It irritates him to no end, to think he’s being handled so carefully, and he pushes away to grab the other’s larger hand, lacing their fingers as he does to then drag the younger man upstairs to what he had briefly ascertained to be the master bedroom.

There’s no bed frame, just a mattress on the floor, but it’s all he needs as he pulls the larger man down with him. Lips press together again, hands roaming over clothes as teeth tug on a lip. There’s a stray thought in Vegeta’s mind that he should slow down, take the time to enjoy this, but his body has other ideas, libido drowning out sensibility as he longs to feel the full expanse of Goku’s skin against his own.

He half expects Goku to have the same thoughts, to slow down and urge him to calm, but it seems he’s just as frantic as he is, hands twisting into his clothing, wrenching fabric away from skin in a way they’ve never had the opportunity to before. Those broad hands drag heavy down his chest, pausing briefly to flick at taut nipples, palms pressing into flesh as fingertips feel out dips and swells of his abdomen, down to his waistband to shove the offending material away.

Vegeta arches to help the other man in his task, aware that this is the first time the man’s actually seen him nude, and Goku seems to realise at the same time, pausing in what he’s doing to look him over. That sense of vulnerability makes him want to curl into himself again, and Vegeta fights it with all the will he has, keep his spine stretched long, knees apart as Goku spares a moment to finish undressing him, before returning to hover over him, eyes fixed between his legs. Aroused as he is, Vegeta’s shaft bobs heavy against his belly, already close despite his trepidation. He’s never...submitted before, and he has no idea what to expect.

Hell, he wasn’t even sure he liked men, but there was something in Goku’s nature that he was drawn to so inexplicably. He bites his bottom lip, slowing a little as he parts his legs further, inviting wordlessly as Goku throws aside his own clothing before dropping onto all fours between his thighs. There’s no more words, no teasing touches, he simply swallows him down as far as he can, lips sealed tight around Vegeta’s cock, working back and forth on the length, his fist curled around the portion he couldn’t fit in his mouth, the other cupping his balls.

The noise Vegeta makes would embarrass him for years to come, if the man could ever remember making it, his head tossed back into sheets, hands locked into Goku’s hair. Already he’s bucking, gasping, too long since he’d last had full relief and he releases into the other’s mouth without warning. If Goku is displeased, he makes no indication, save to retreat for a second to spit into nearby towel. When he returns to Vegeta, he kisses him, salted tongue pressing into his mouth, hands gripping hips to turn him onto his hands and knees.

The sheets beneath Vegeta’s face are freshly washed, scented with something floral. That seems like an odd detail to notice as he lets his thighs be spread further apart, until he’s frighteningly exposed. Warm hands move him where he needs to be, gripping one of his cheeks and then there’s something cool and slippery circling intimate flesh. He clenches, unconsciously, flexing away from the odd touch and Goku stretches over him to kiss and nip at his nape and shoulders.

‘Breathe, Vegeta. And just tell me if it’s too much.’

He retreats again, and Vegeta finds himself clinging to those words, trying to control his breathing as something that seems infinitely larger presses against him. There’s no extra preparation that Goku affords him, just firm hands and a gentle voice coaxing him into relaxing as he’s opened, his own voice rising into a whine as the head of Goku’s cock sinks into him, nestled inside tight muscles.

There’s a soft curse, hands stroking his hips and cheeks, running down his thighs as if Goku is trying to calm himself as much as Vegeta.

‘Fuck, just...move...’ Vegeta hisses, as the slow stretch and burn of his muscles begins to fade, allowing the man behind him to sink deeper, a hand wrapping around Vegeta’s cock now, tugging him, easing him into the motions his body wants to make. 

They rock together, slow at first as hips press against cheeks, then gaining speed as they both relax into the act, hands twisting in sheets, gripping white knuckled at flesh and bone, voices rising with every stroke of one body into the other.

It suffuses Vegeta’s body, heat and pressure inside him, against him, tingling along skin and exciting nerves that have never been activated so before. Too much, too soon and he arches against Goku as he peaks again, his seed splashing hot against his belly. He’s barely finished when he feels Goku rear up, hands gripping at his shoulders and he pounds into him at a rate that leaves him breathless. It doesn’t last long, energy expended and Vegeta feels the erratic snap of Goku’s hip before he too climaxes and collapses instantly on top of him.

Trapped beneath that warm body, the former inmate grumbles lightly, knowing that the other man is probably asleep already, still buried inside him. He shifts his hips slightly, earning a low groan, Goku just about conscious enough to take the hint and pull free of him, though he doesn’t seem happy to move away. Instead, he lifts himself off Vegeta’s body, allowing a sudden rush of cold air to meet the man’s back.

Vegeta grits his teeth, turning, grabbing sheets and burrowing back against the warmth of Goku’s body, allowing himself to be held. If this was a new kind of being trapped that he hadn’t thought of before, he would welcome it for the contentment of the moment, now and for as far into the future as he could imagine.


	14. Chapter 14

Civilian life is odd. It’s a mixture of small entrapments marketed as choice – what job you chose, what clothes you wear, what you eat, where you live...but really, it’s all just a case of selecting the best for you out of a series of standard traps that no-one can escape from. 

Everyone had to work to earn their money and pay their bills, save for the rare upper echelons of society. Choice and freedom was an illusion, Vegeta said, but it was a better illusion than what he had suffered before and so he accepted it.

Goku nodded along, accepting Vegeta’s acceptance because...well because there was nothing else to do but watch as the man takes a bite of a chicken dumpling.

‘You really said all that to the parole officer?’ Goku asks, taking a swig of whatever fruit flavoured drink was in front of him. Vegeta grunts an affirmative.

‘They say anything?’

‘I’m observing my parole conditions. That’s all they really care about.’

‘Oh.’

‘Though he did mention that you might want to know that Raditz is behaving himself.’

‘Is he?’

‘Apparently. Seems he’s decided to turn over a new leaf. He may get out one day. Nappa and Turles never will...but they know that.’

‘Really? What did they even do?’

‘Murder. Lots of it.’

‘But...wasn’t that what you were in for?’

Vegeta halts in his eating, eyes flicking up to look at Goku, and he feels his heart pound harder. He hadn’t expected to do this in the middle of a busy restaurant.

Chopsticks are set down carefully.

‘I never have told you what happened, have I?’

‘Nah.’

‘And yet you’re still here with me. You still trust me.’

‘Well...yeah. I can see good when it’s there. Sometimes you have to squint, but most people have some. And yours is there, you just hide it behind the bad stuff.’

Vegeta’s brow creases.

‘I wish you wouldn’t do that.’

‘What?’

‘That...perceptive thing.’

Goku shrugs. He has no answer, he just says what he sees.

‘Let’s take a walk. I’ll tell you everything but...not here.’

They eat the rest of their meals quickly and in silence, leaving enough money on the table to cover the bill before leaving, heading for the nearby park. They wander for sometime, until they’re at the furthest reaches of the green landscape, where most people don’t bother to go.

‘I killed six men, in total.’ Vegeta announces, out of the blue, stopping to look up at the twisting boughs of an ancient tree. His fingers curl into a knot on it’s trunk. ‘Two of them… I meant to do it, three of them, I didn’t want to but they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The other one...was more of an accident. I just meant to teach him a lesson, but he died of his injuries.’

Goku only nods. If he were to say anything, it would more than likely discourage the other man from admitting anything else.

‘I was young, so the judge could only give me a maximum of twelve years. But then I fucked myself over by losing my temper with the inmates. That’s why I got stuck for so much longer.’

‘How old were you?’

‘Sixteen.’

‘Wow. Young.’

Vegeta grunts, sitting down in the long grass, taking calming breaths and Goku sits down besides him, his hand on his knee.

‘Why though?’

‘They threatened me. My father had some bad blood with their boss, so they were sent after me to teach me a lesson.’

‘So it was self-defence?’

‘...I think it only counts as self defence if you can reasonably prove they meant to harm you before you strike. We were walking down this ally...’

‘We?’

‘Tarble and I. He was only ten… I could hear them, I knew they were following us, so I tried to lose them, but we couldn’t.’

Goku grips tighter at Vegeta’s knee, shuffling closer.

‘I made it into a game for him. He knew the way home, so I said I’d race him there, then let him run ahead. I was carrying, so as soon as I thought he was safe I attacked. Took out the two closest one’s easily. The guys behind them, they looked like they were having second thoughts...but they’d seen what I’d done, and I thought, if I could get rid of them, I’d get away with it...’

‘So you killed them too.’

He nods.

‘The last one begged me not to hurt him. I guess they didn’t think a kid could do so much damage. I just wanted to knock him out. I didn’t even use the knife. But I went to far, there’s was too much head trauma and...’

‘He died later.’

Vegeta nods.

‘I don’t regret what I did. They would have killed Tarble and I. The judge said I was unremorseful, and he was right, but I wouldn’t be shamed for protecting what’s important to me.’

‘Didn’t you tell them what happened?’

‘I told them that I felt threatened. They asked me why I thought that. I couldn’t tell them the truth, it would implicate my father too much. So I said it was just a feeling. They called me paranoid, then said my actions were too deliberate for me to be mentally ill. In that way, anyway.’

‘...what does your dad do?’

‘Better not to know. Safer for you. And me. Truth be told I think he’s changed from the old business, but if I ask...’

‘You could get caught up in something and violate your parole?’

Vegeta nods slowly and Goku leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

‘Thanks for telling me.’

The smaller man swallows thickly.

‘You should be running for the hills after hearing that. What’s wrong with you?’

‘Told ya, just got a sense for if someone’s bad...and I don’t get that from you. You did a bad thing, but you couldn’t not in that situation. It’s not like you could have walked away without violence, they weren’t going to let you. Besides...do you wanna do it again?

‘No.’

‘Then I don’t care what you did in the past. I care what you choose to do now.’

Vegeta nods, his head dropping a little.

‘I wouldn’t have gotten a chance to choose anything if you hadn’t joined the programme.’

There’s an odd note of uncertainty in Vegeta’s voice that Goku doesn’t like, and he shifts closer to the other man, wrapping an arm around him to pull him into his body. He’s mildly surprised that he lets him. More often than not, the former inmate would shirk away from affection if it wasn’t directly related to sex.

‘Do you wanna go home?’ Goku asks, voice muffled into Vegeta’s hair. Sometimes, the outside world was still just too much. 

Vegeta nods and he Goku pulls him to his feet and they head back to the car, still quiet, until the vehicle comes into view.

‘Thank fuck we didn’t come here in your shit heap of a car at least.’ The smaller man murmurs, unlocking the door of the black classic and sliding in, reaching over to manually unlock the passenger side.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with my car. She does what she needs to do.’

‘It’s not even a she. It’s not worthy of being given a gender.’

‘What you got against it?’

‘It’s tiny!’

‘Well maybe I like tiny things.’ Goku comments, shooting a meaningful glance to the smaller man, who flushes angrily under the comment. 

‘You bastard...’

‘Was nice of your brother to buy this for you.’

Vegeta scoffs.

‘You mean ‘emasculating’?’

‘You’re paying him back, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Then it’s fine. Besides, you need a car to get to classes and work, so I think it’s fine.’

‘Uh-huh.’

They wind their way back to Vegeta’s place, the ridiculous engine thrumming beneath them as they sit in traffic, chugging happily when they roll off again and pull to a stop outside the house.

Goku doesn’t need to ask if he’s invited. Vegeta has never denied him access to anything, so he wanders to the door and waits for Vegeta to unlock it before following him in. The rooms are still as bare as the day Vegeta moved in, several months ago now, although at the least the man has got himself a desk and a computer to work on, and the fridge is full.

‘You still haven’t filled this place, huh?’

‘I don’t have a lot of disposable income to buy unnecessary things. Besides,’ Vegeta sets to making himself a coffee, ‘I’m not here most of the time and it’s too large for one person.’

‘Yeah I guess,’ Goku comments, ideas forming rapidly, ‘You could rent out one of the rooms though? Make some money off it.’

‘No way in hell am I having some randomer move in here. Besides, who would want to live with a convicted murderer?’

‘You’re not obe...obil...you don’t have to tell them.’

‘Obligated? And no. But I like my space.’

Goku’s shoulders fall a little. 

‘Oh...so you never wanna live with someone else?’

Vegeta shoves the milk carton back into the fridge, drink in hand, before moving through to the living room to flop on the sofa. Goku follows.

‘I hadn’t given it much thought.’

‘I mean...I guess I could help you decide though. If I...maybe stayed the night, sometimes? So I wouldn’t be a stranger, and I could go back to my own place if you didn’t like me being here all the time. And if you did like me being here, then I could maybe just...not go home.’

Vegeta takes a drink slowly, eyes unfocused on the tv screen.

‘That could be a way to do it, I suppose.’

‘Cool! And if you needed to study in quiet, I could just stay at mine and make sure the boys were with Chi-Chi or something.’

‘Ah...the boys….yes...’

‘They’d be cool with it. They like you.’

‘We’ve barely met and I think your youngest was going to piss himself when I saw him last.’

‘Ah Goten’s just a bit nervous, he’ll come around.’

Another sip of hot coffee and Vegeta nods.

‘Perhaps.’

They fall into silence again, and Goku stretches, not bothering to attempt to disguise his attempts as he leans over to wrap an arm around him, smiling to himself when the smaller man leans into his shoulder.

‘I was thinking...’ Vegeta speaks as he finishes his drink, ‘...My children...I...’

He stops, shaking his head and pulling away from Goku to take his mug to the sink.

‘Nevermind.’

‘You wanna meet ‘em?’ Goku asks, coming up behind him. He hovers a few feet away.

‘Perhaps.’

‘Cool. I’ll swing by Bulma’s later to pick up the boys and I’ll ask her.’

‘Do you ever look after your own children?’

‘Huh?’

‘They’re either at your ex’s or at the woman’s.’

‘They like it there. And they spend the evenings with me. We share them, kinda, cos sometimes Trunks and Bra come to mine with the boys, or they all go to Chi-Chi’s.’

‘Right. Anyway, piss off for a bit, would you? I’ve got work to do.’

‘Sure. You want me to swing by later?’

‘Whatever.’

‘K, I’ll be back around 7 then.’ Goku swoops into the smaller man, pressing a kiss to his cheek before he has a chance to complain. ‘Proud of you Geets.’

He dashes away and out of the house before the other man can respond, though he swears he can hear him cursing.

Chuckling to himself, he pulls out his phone to call Bulma. No time like the present to put those ideas in motion.

–  
Vegeta doesn’t know how he’s gotten himself into this position, swallowing thickly, sweating beneath his jumper.

Why the fuck had he even chosen to wear a sweater? It was far too warm for it. But it was one of the few smart pieces of clothing he owned, and he needed to make a good impression. He should’ve just worn a shirt. But then that would have shown the pit stains as he sweated. But then, if he didn’t wear a sweater, he might not have been sweating and…

‘You OK there, Vegeta?’ Goku asks, brushing his knuckles against the back of Vegeta’s hand.

‘Fine.’

‘Nervous?’

‘What would I have to be nervous about?’ Other than the notion that if this didn’t go well, Bulma could well decide that he would never get to see his children again. Assuming he wanted to. What if they were annoying little shits? Most kids were. What if they didn’t like him and didn’t want to see him again, or were scared of him, or…?

‘Here we go.’

Goku grips him by the wrist, pulling him out of the lift and down the winding corridors of the living area of Capsule Corp. Vegeta staggers behind him, thinking to protest and then suddenly they’re in a large, comfortably furnished room, too many sets of eyes turning to look at him.

Goku had said it was a party, that there would be more of his friends present, but he wasn’t quite expecting the sheer number of people in the room.

‘Hi guys! Let me introduce you all...’ he pushes Vegeta in front of him, pointing at people, moving his finger from left to right, ‘...so we’ve got 18, Krillin, Yamcha, Bulma, Mr and Mrs Briefs, Tien, Chiaotzu, Master Roshi, Oolong, Chi-Chi, Piccolo aaannnndddd….kids! C’mere!’

Four pairs of eyes turn from the huddle of children in the corner, and the children in question look up curiously before wandering over.

‘Obviously you know my two boys but this is...’ Goku reaches to ruffle the hair of the lavender haired lad in front of them and scoop the blue haired girl into his arms. ‘Trunks and Bra.’

Matching pairs of bright blue eyes bore into him.

‘Everyone, this is Vegeta.’

Vegeta shifts for a moment, before he remembers himself, straightening his spine and lifting his chin, making sure to meet the eyes of each and every person in the room as he lets a smirk curve his lips. He turns away again to look at his children as Goku sets Bra back to the floor and he eyes them both, curious as Bulma appears at their shoulders. Even a quick look over them and he can tell they’re his, haughtiness and determination on their young faces. His smile softens as he looks at them.

‘Hi brats.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. If you got this far, and you enjoyed it, please let me know. It's good to get feedback especially as this is my first dragon ball fic.
> 
> Thanks, lovelies :)

**Author's Note:**

> It was probably terrible, but if you did happen to like it, please let me know.


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